Spare Not Thy Tears

Columbia, bow thy head, spare not of tears,
     Nor call of duty nor the trump of fame
     Nor wail of sorrow nor the charge of blame
Can now avail, the chief no longer hears,
Thy son, twice honored of a nation’s peers,
     Lies cold and silent; softly breathe his name,
     While on thy visage rests a cloud of shame,
One so should pass whom history’s page endears.

Mourn, fair Columbia, since there is cause
     For all the depth and passion of thy grief;
          Toll, toll the bells, while in the sacred glow
Of choir and chancel distant kindreds pause
     And join thy departed chief,
          In sympathy of peoples with thy woe.