Thou sayest true: what greater bliss can be
Than this: from Life's most radiant joy to leap
With glowing cheeks, and with enraptured heart,
Into the deepest ecstasy of Death,
Of Death for Country, Right and Liberty.
This is no foretaste: this is Heaven itself.
I should not love thee, could I not with thee
Feel e'en the least vibration of thy glee!
Still, let us not give way to passionate joy,
But peacefully collect our thoughts like some
Long intimate through earnest contemplation
With all the prospects of their future journey.
Pilgrims for Canaan, we have now attained
The Sinai of our lives, whence we may trace
The road we traveled o'er from out the bondage
Of Egypt through the desert's dreary waste,
And where as well we are allowed a glimpse
Into the haze-dimmed "Promised Land" before us
Where so one summit links the Past and Presence
And Future of our lives, it is well meet
To linger here awhile in meditation.
And with the truth here plucked for keepsake-flower.
Take leave forever from our late abode.
And were then, while we turn to go, a tear
To fall from out our eye upon that flower,
That costly dew would heighten but its bloom.