FUGITIVE to nobler air,
Dead avow thee who shall dare?
Freeborn spirit, eagle heart,
Full of life thou wert and art!
Tender was thy glance, and bland;
Honor swayed thy giving hand;
Sweet as fragrance on the sense
Stole thy rich intelligence,
And thy coming, like the spring,
Moved the saddest lips to sing.
Wealth above all argosies!
Sunshine of our drooping eyes!
Be to Heaven, for Heaven’s desert,
Fair as unto us thou wert.
Tho’ the groping breezes moan
Here about thy burial-stone,
Never sorrow’s lightest breath
Links thy happy name with death,
Lest therein our love should be,
Thou that livest! false to thee.