&nbsp Garlands upon his grave,
       &nbsp And flowers upon his hearse,
And to the tender heart and brave
       &nbsp The tribute of this verse.

       &nbsp His was the troubled life,
       &nbsp The conflict and the pain,
The grief, the bitterness of strife,
       &nbsp The honor without stain.

       &nbsp Like Winkelried, he took
       &nbsp Into his manly breast
The sheaf of hostile spears, and broke
       &nbsp A path for the oppressed.

       &nbsp Then from the fatal field
       &nbsp Upon a nation's heart
Borne like a warrior on his shield!—
       &nbsp So should the brave depart.

       &nbsp Death takes us by surprise,
       &nbsp And stays our hurrying feet;
The great design unfinished lies,
       &nbsp Our lives are incomplete.

       &nbsp But in the dark unknown
       &nbsp Perfect their circles seem,
Even as a bridge's arch of stone
       &nbsp Is rounded in the stream.
       &nbsp Alike are life and death,
       &nbsp When life in death survives,
And the uninterrupted breath
       &nbsp Inspires a thousand lives.

       &nbsp Were a star quenched on high,
       &nbsp For ages would its light,
Still travelling downward from the sky,
       &nbsp Shine on our mortal sight.

       &nbsp So when a great man dies,
       &nbsp For years beyond our ken,
The light he leaves behind him lies
       &nbsp Upon the paths of men.