SAMUEL J. TILDEN. GREYSTONE, AUG. 4, 1886. Once more, O all-adjusting Death! The nation's Pantheon opens wide; Once more a common sorrow saith A strong, wise man has died. Faults doubtless had he. Had we not Our own, to question and asperse The worth we doubted or forgot Until beside his hearse? Ambitious, cautious, yet the man To strike down fraud with resolute hand; A patriot, if a partisan, He loved his native land. So let the mourning bells be rung, The banner droop its folds half way, And while the public pen and tongue Their fitting tribute pay, Shall we not vow above his bier To set our feet on party lies, And wound no more a living ear With words that Death denies? 1886