In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 67

When on my bed the moonlight falls,

         I know that in thy place of rest

         By that broad water of the west,

There comes a glory on the walls:

Thy marble bright in dark appears,

         As slowly steals a silver flame

         Along the letters of thy name,

And o'er the number of thy years.

The mystic glory swims away;

         From off my bed the moonlight dies;

         And closing eaves of wearied eyes

I sleep till dusk is dipt in gray:

And then I know the mist is drawn

         A lucid veil from coast to coast,

         And in the dark church like a ghost

Thy tablet glimmers to the dawn.