Chapter VIII

He is here!
Massachusetts called him back,
And he answered--he is here!
Let the walls be hung with black,
Yet let roses richly red
On the casket of the dead
Be in bright profusion spread;
And all night with solemn tread
Let the dusky sentinel,
Guarding what he loved so well,
Guarding what he held so dear,
Pace beside the quiet bier!