Garlands upon his grave,   And flowers upon his hearse, And to the tender heart and brave   The tribute of this verse.   His was the troubled life,   The conflict and the pain, The grief, the bitterness of strife,   The honor without stain.   Like Winkelried, he took   Into his manly breast The sheaf of hostile spears, and broke   A path for the oppressed.   Then from the fatal field   Upon a nation's heart Borne like a warrior on his shield!—   So should the brave depart.   d**h takes us by surprise,   And stays our hurrying feet; The great design unfinished lies,   Our lives are incomplete.   But in the dark unknown   Perfect their circles seem, Even as a bridge's arch of stone   Is rounded in the stream.   Alike are life and d**h,   When life in d**h survives, And the uninterrupted breath   Inspires a thousand lives.   Were a star quenched on high,   For ages would its light, Still travelling downward from the sky,   Shine on our mortal sight.   So when a great man dies,   For years beyond our ken, The light he leaves behind him lies   Upon the paths of men.