Spindrift :: :: University of Virginia Library

Nor Theban obelisk, nor Attic fane,
Perched far from men in solitary pride,
On inaccessible crag or bleak hill-side,
Swathed half the year in mist and blinding rain!—
He loved the people—for the people toiled—
Lived 'mongst the people—in whose grateful heart
The memory of his goodness lives: a part
Of each man's life. Let not such love be foiled
In its due utterance. Be his monument
Reared in our midst, where ever ebb and flow
The human tides: that eyes unborn may grow
Familiar with each noble lineament
Of the True Man, beside whose sterling worth
As merest tinsel seemed earth's loftiest state and birth.