VIII.
He is here!
Massachusetts called him back,
And he answered—he is here!
Let the walls be hung with black,
Yet let roses richly red
On the casket of the dead
Be in bright profusion spread;
And all night with solemn tread
Let the dusky sentinel,
Guarding what he loved so well,
Guarding what he held so dear,
Pace beside the quiet bier!