He was one of the greatest Americans and the best of
men.
The poet Whittier writes:
The weary form that rested not
Save in a martyr's grave;
The care-worn face that none forgot,
Turned to the kneeling slave.
We rest in peace where his sad eyes
Saw peril, strife, and pain;
His was the awful sacrifice,
And ours the priceless gain.
Says Bryant:
That task is done, the bound are free,
We bear thee to an honoured grave,
Whose noblest monument shall be
The broken fetters of the slave.
Pure was thy life; its bloody close
Hath blessed thee with the sons of light,
Among the noble host of those
Who perished in the cause of right.
Says Lowell:
Our children shall behold his fame,
The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man,
Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame;
New birth of our new soil, the first American.
Ordinary men die when their physical life is brought to a close, if
perhaps not at once, yet in a brief space, with the passing of the
little circle of those to whom they were dear.
The man of distinction lives for a time after death. His achievements
and his character are held in appreciative remembrance by the community
and the generation he has served.
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