We set to-day the votive stone,
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.
Spirit that made those heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.
—R. W. Emerson.
TO A WATERFOWL.
Whither, ’midst falling dew,