Buffalo, September 6

The air was filled with music, every heart
     Throbbed its thanksgiving for the season’s wealth,
With splendors piled appeared the magic mart
     Whose arches gave their echoes for thy health.

The train made entrance on the brilliant scene
     Like the fair galley of a victor crowned;
While Nature smiled, propitious and serene,
     Thine and the Nation’s heart the death blow found.

Dark grow the skies, the sounds of joy are hushed.
     Reason can scarce attest the sudden change;
When did the flower of hope, so fully flushed,
     So swiftly fail, with portent sad and strange?

Thine was the glory of successful rule,
     Thine, in thy manly youth, the warrior’s wreath.
For what of thy good service might a fool
     Aim at thy breast, unarmed, the stroke of death?

The garlands hung on thy triumphal way
     Shall now be heaped thy mournful bier above,
Yet with best conquest ends thy noble day,
     Resigning life, but keeping faith and love.