Nor named thee but to praise.

On the Death of Joseph Rodman Drake.

There is an evening twilight of the heart,

When its wild passion-waves are lulled to rest.

Twilight.

[[563]]

They love their land because it is their own,

And scorn to give aught other reason why;

Would shake hands with a king upon his throne,

And think it kindness to his Majesty.