Requiem for Lafayette

He's gone to his home! Like a well-ripened sheaf,
The ear in its fulness and sear in its leaf,
The angels have borne him with joy to the skies;
The portals of heaven have closed on their prize.

He's gone, like the sun at the dying of day,
When shades vale the earth, as his light fades away!
In greatness he rose, and in glory he shone,
Till claimed by the world, while the world was his own.

He's gone, like the waters in brightness that flow;
While verdure and flowers clothe their banks as they go,
Till, forth to the deep, in their grandeur they roll;
He's gone to the ocean, the home of his soul!

He's gone! and the nations in sackcloth are dressed
They mingle their tears round the place of his rest:
But none, like Columbia, lingers to weep,
The friend of her youth, with his fathers asleep.

He watched o'er her childhood—he saw her young form,
Arise in its beauty, 'mid darkness and storm.
Her sighs, like an orphan's, are heavily drawn,
While speaks the cold marble, 'He's gone! he is gone!'