He stood upon the heights, yet never So high but that his heart forever Was by the lowliest accent thrilled; He loved his land and sought to save it, And in that love he freely gave it The life Death’s hand hath touched and stilled. IX. Dear, brave, true heart! You fell as falleth A star when from far spaces calleth God’s voice that shakes the trembling spheres; Fell! Nay! that voice, like softest lyre, Whispered thee in thy dreams: “Come higher, Above Earth’s sorrows, hopes and fears.” X. I shall not see the dead: Thy living, Dear face, the gentle and forgiving; The kindly eyes compassionate; The rare smile of thy lips—each token I have of thee must be unbroken— Death shall not leave them desolate? XI. O, Christmas skies of blue December, This day of earthly days remember— He loved you, skies! to him your blue Was beautiful! O, sunlight gleaming Like silver on the rivers streaming Out to the sea; and mountain’s dew XII. Bespangled—and ye velvet valleys, Green-bosomed, where the south winds dallies— He loved you! And ye birds that sing— Do ye not miss him? Winds that wander, How can ye pass him, lying yonder, Now sigh his dirge with folded wing? XIII. In dearest dust that ever nourished The violets that o’er it flourished, He lies, your lover and your friend! Thy softest beams, sweet sun, will kiss him; Sweet, silent valleys, ye will miss him, Your roses, weeping, o’er him bend. XIV. Good-night—Good-bye! Above our sorrow, Comrade! thine is a fair “good-morrow,” In some far, luminous world of light, Yet, take this farewell—Love’s last token: We leave thee to thy rest unbroken— God have thee in his care—Good-night! —F. L. STANTON. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ATLANTA. -------