Extempore Sonnet on the Assassination of William McKinley, September 6, 1901

Lost to the world! and we may hope well flown
Is all the transitory round of strife,
Concerns of peace and armies, all unknown
In that far land which counts the cost of life.
Yes! ’t is the soul of man alone that lives
Truly on earth, and more forever where
Deeds are undone, and thought’s fulfillment gives
The Eternal—dreams are all undreamt of there!
Not by the shouts of nations is begun
Eternity’s true judgment; no, ’t is made
In each small life; the unforgotten sun [81][82]
Is that which shines on some fair, peaceful glade.
Since, though we know not, we may hope his song
Has found a truer music—mourn not long!