Gettysburg Ode

  After the eyes that looked, the lips that spake
  Here, from the shadows of impending death,
  Those words of solemn breath,
  What voice may fitly break
  The silence, doubly hallowed, left by him?
  We can but bow the head, with eyes grown dim,
  And, as a Nation's litany, repeat
  The phrase his martyrdom hath made complete,
  Noble as then, but now more sadly sweet:
  "Let us, the Living, rather dedicate
  Ourselves to the unfinished work, which they
  Thus far advanced so nobly on its way,
  And saved the periled State!
  Let us, upon this field where they, the brave,
  Their last full measure of devotion gave,
  Highly resolve they have not died in vain!--
  That, under God, the Nation's later birth
  Of freedom, and the people's gain
  Of their own Sovereignty, shall never wane
  And perish from the circle of the earth!"
  From such a perfect text, shall Song aspire
  To light her faded fire,
  And into wandering music turn
  Its virtue, simple, sorrowful, and stern?
  His voice all elegies anticipated;
  For, whatsoe'er the strain,
  We hear that one refrain:
  "We consecrate ourselves to them, the Consecrated!"