We stand upon this verge of crumbling time. We love, we hope, we disappear. Again we mingle with the dust, and the "knot intrinsicate" forever falls apart.
But this we know: A noble life enriches all the world.
Horace Seaver lived for others. He accepted toil and hope deferred. Poverty was his portion. Like Socrates, he did not seek to adorn his body, but rather his soul with the jewels of charity, modesty, courage, and above all, with a love of liberty.
Farewell, O brave and modest man!
Your lips, between which truths burst into blossom, are forever closed. Your loving heart has ceased to beat. Your busy brain is still, and from your hand has dropped the sacred torch.
Your noble, self-denying life has honored us, and we will honor you.
You were my friend, and I was yours. Above your silent clay I pay this tribute to your worth.
Farewell!