Among life's duties, for so many years,
And hear those parting words, that "all is peace!"[1] ]
The harvest-song of true philosophy.
His epitaph is that which cannot yield
A mouldering motto to the tooth of time.
—Man works in marble, and it mocks his trust,
But the immortal mind doth ever keep
The earnest impress of the moulding hand,
And bear it onward to a race unborn.
—That is his monument.