The heart of Nature throbbed along the lines—
Her joy was in his dawn.
The hills and streams to him were never dumb,
They gave their secrets to his own heart’s keeping;
Grand music in the oaks and pines was sleeping
Waiting for him to come!
And you, Lanier, cut down like some tall tree
By an insidious foe—upright and strong
Until the last, and with your parting song