Leads onward, to the last, long sleep;
The hour when all shall pass away;
When King, and Captive, Lord, and Slave
Must rest unparted, in the grave
A mass of soulless clay.
O long I’ve listened to the sound,
Of winter’s blast, and summer’s breeze,
As their sweet voices sung around,
Through echoing caves, and wind-waved trees.
And long I’ve viewed from prison bars