'Gainst things occult our earth-turned eyes rebel;
No sound of destiny can reach our ears;
We have no time for dreaming—Hark! a knell,—
A knell at midnight! All the nation hears!
A second grievous throb! The dreamers wake;
The merchant's soul forgets his goods and ships;
The humble workmen from their slumbers break;
The women raise their eyes with quivering lips;
The miner rests upon his pick to hear;
The printer's type stops midway from the case;
The solemn sound has reached the roisterer's ear,
And brought the shame and sorrow to his face.
Again it booms! Oh, mystic veil, upraise!—
Behold, 'tis lifted! On the darkness drawn,
A picture, lined with light! The people's gaze,
From sea to sea, beholds it till the dawn:
A death-bed scene—a sinking sufferer lies,
Their chosen ruler, crowned with love and pride;
Around, his counsellors, with streaming eyes;
His wife, heart-broken, kneeling by his side:
Death's shadow holds her, it will pass too soon;
She weeps in silence—bitterest of tears;
He wanders softly—Nature's kindest boon,
And as he whispers all the country hears.
For him the pain is past, the struggle ends:
His cares and honors fade: his younger life
In peaceful Mentor comes, with dear old friends;
His mother's arms take home his sweet young wife;
He stands among the students, tall and strong,
And teaches truths republican and grand:
He moves—ah, pitiful!—he sweeps along,
O'er fields of carnage leading his command!
He speaks to crowded faces; round him surge
Thousands and millions of excited men:
He hears them cheer, sees some great light emerge,
Is borne as on a tempest: then—ah, then!
The fancies fade, the fever's work is past;
A moment's pang—then recollections thrill:
He feels the faithful lips that kiss their last,
His heart beats once in answer, and is still!