Anthology of Modern Slavonic Literature in Prose and Verse/Funeral Rites
4. FUNERAL RITES.
He is no more, alas! So great, so rare!
His merit gleams, a star in gloomy sky.
See, what black edges all the papers bear,
And in the streets half-mast the flags will fly.
The grateful nation! Not an inch to spare
In sorrow's dwelling. . . Hear the widow's cry—
While round the pressmen crowds are jostling there,
Their names for publication to supply.