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[Garfield, President of the people, in] In memoriam

Gems of Poetry and Song on James A. Garfield

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59

GARFIELD, PRESIDENT OF THE PEOPLE.

DIED SEPTEMBER 19, 1881.

What is this silence, that calls?
What is this deafness, that hears?
The silence is Death. Like a voice it falls;
It rings in the heedless ears
That never shall hearken again
To the words of our blame or praise,
Nor the low-hushed moan of a Nation's pain
As it rolls through the darkened days!
And the motionless body must yield
To the spell of that hushed command.
Oh, that one of us, dying, had been the shield
To save that life for our land!
Man that was trusted of men—
Brave, and not fearing to die
More than to face life's meanness, when
It clamored its partisan lie!—
Though you leave us, we lose you not!
In the Republic you live
Sacred, and part of its deathless lot,
For whose life your life you give.

60

Garfield—the name so plain,
The name we know so well!
The name we shall never forget again,
Of the man who for honesty fell!
Like another Winkelreid,
You drew to yourself the spears
Of tyrannous hate, though yourself must bleed;
And left us—our pride and our tears.
Legacy meet and rare,
Of one who dared to be pure!
In the hearts of the people, who love what is fair,
That precious renown shall endure.
O sorrow that falls like a stone
In the midst of the calm of our peace,
As the waves of pity around you have grown,
So may our truth increase!
George Parsons Lathrop.
England, September 20, 1881.