"Magno se judice quisque tuetur;
Victrix causa deis placuit sed victa Catoni."
A YEAR ago, how often did we meet
Beneath these elms, once more in sober bloom,
Thy tall, sad figure pacing down the street,
And now the robin sings above thy tomb!
Thy name on other shores may ne'er be known,
Though Rome austere no graver consul knew,
But Massachusetts her true son shall own;
Out of her soil thy hardy virtues grew.
She loves the man that chose the conquered cause,
With upright soul that bowed to God alone;
The clean hands that upheld her equal laws,
The old religion ne'er to be outgrown;
The cold demeanor, the warm heart beneath,
The simple grandeur of thy life and death.
F. B. SANBorn.