Of transitory mortal life live out
Thine earthly span, though to our eyes thy life
Seems like the flashing of a falling star,
Which for a moment fills the heavens with light,
And vanishes forever.
Nay, not so—
The Poet’s words are thy best epitaph!
And though the stone which marks thy grave but tells
The number of the years thy mortal frame
Retained that eagle-wingèd soul of thine,