On the low pillow where so late he mourn'd
His gifted first-born, in the prime of days,
Circled by all that makes life beautiful
And full of joy, his honored head is laid,—
The Sire and Son,—ne'er to be sunder'd more.
Yet his unblemish'd memory still survives,
And walks among us;—the upright intent,—
Firmness that conquer'd obstacles,—the zeal
For public good,—the warmth of charity,