The Dead Emperor
(Publish’d March 10, 1888)
To-day, with bending head and eyes, thou, too, Columbia, Less for the mighty crown laid low in sorrow—less for the Emperor, Thy true condolence breathest, sendest out o’er many a salt sea mile, Mourning a good old man—a faithful shepherd, patriot.
As the Greek’s Signal Flame
(For Whittier’s eightieth birthday, December 17, 1887)
As the Greek’s signal flame, by antique records told, Rose from the hill-top, like applause and glory, Welcoming in fame some special veteran, hero, With rosy tinge reddening the land he’d served, So I aloft from Mannahatta’s ship-fringed shore, Lift high a kindled brand for thee, Old Poet.
The Dismantled Ship
In some unused lagoon, some nameless bay, On sluggish, lonesome waters, anchor’d near the shore, An old, dismasted, gray and batter’d ship, disabled, done, After free voyages to all the seas of earth, haul’d up at last and hawser’d tight, Lies rusting, mouldering.