XVI. For he too was a friend to me: Both are my friends, and my true breast Bleedeth for both; yet it may be That only silence suiteth best. XVII. Words weaker than your grief would make 'T were better I should cease Grief more. Although myself could almost take The place of him that sleeps in peace : XVIII. Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace: While the stars burn, the moons increase, XIX. Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet. Nothing comes to thee new or strange. Sleep full of rest from head to feet; Lie still, dry dust, secure of change. You ask me, why, though ill at ease, Whose spirits falter in the mist, It is the land that freemen till, That sober-suited Freedom chose, The land where, girt with friends or foes, A man may speak the thing he will; A land of settled government, A land of just and old renown, Where Freedom broadens slowly down From precedent to precedent: Where faction seldom gathers head, Should banded unions persecute When single thought is civil crime, And individual freedom mute; VOL. I. Though Power should make from land to land Yet waft me from the harbor-mouth, Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky, The palms and temples of the South. 14 Of old sat Freedom on the heights, The thunders breaking at her feet: Within her place she did rejoice, Self-gathered in her prophet-mind, But fragments of her mighty voice Then stept she down through town and field To mingle with the human race, And part by part to men revealed The fulness of her face. Grave mother of majestic works, From her isle-altar gazing down, Who, God-like, grasps the triple forks, |