As wistfully I gazed upon their graves A vision passed before me. On a mount That glowed with light ineffable appeared The New Year, in imperial garments clad, Erect and tall and God-like in his mien, With strength immortal in his manly limbs And hope and courage beaming from his eyes. And lo, swift breaking from the clouds, he saw Coming in splendor like the morning sun, The reunited Empire of the West, Swelled on the ear the ever-murmuring hu Of populous cities on unnumbered streams, And marts of commerce by a hundred lakes. The teeming fields, with varied harvests, waved, And tinkling bells on distant hills revived Sweet memories of Arcadia’s pastoral days. Fair science led her train by every grove And hill and stream, and pure religion filled Her solemn temples with perpetual hymns And fervent supplication to her God. And from above the shades of years departed Sang with a voice that filled the firmament: “Hail, New Year, hail the noblest child of Time; The Power which brought the fathers o’er the flood Has saved the offspring from the sevenfold fire. A Union healed shall date its life from thee, Redemption’s golden era. From its shield No star shall vanish in forlorn eclipse, Nor exiled Pleiad chant in skies remote Her solitary song, nor sundered be The marriage bond of States, by law confirmed And the eternal oracles of God.” MONODY ON THE DEATH OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN. [Read at a Memorial Meeting, Nashville, held at the State House, April 16, 1865. Governor Brownlow delivered the address.] Soft breathe the vernal winds, the sky is fair, And April’s fragrance scents the dewy air. Yon Heaven looks down on earth with eyes as mild As a young mother’s on her sleeping child, Jealous lest aught should break her infant’s calm, And lulling its soft slumbers with a psalm. So soft, so holy, comes the forest hymn, From yon far hill-tops, misty, blue and dim, While war’s discordant tumult seems to cease In the sweet music of returning peace. Yet where the fount of joy in crystal springs, Some venomed asp its rankling poison flings, And where the violets shed their fragrant breath The nightshade pours the blistering dews of death