Afar My Loyal Spirit Stirred At Mention Of His Name; Afar In Ringing Notes I Heard The Clarion Voice Of Fame; So To His Tomb, Hope Long Deferred, With Reverent Step I Came. The Pilgrim Muse Revivified A Half-Forgotten Day: A Slow Procession, Tearful-Eyed, In Funeral Array, And From Macgregor'S Lonely Side A Hero Borne Away. Here Sleeps He Now, Where Long Ago Hath Nature Raised His Mound: A Mighty Channel Far Below, Divided Hills Around, Where Countless Thousands Come And Go As To A Shrine Renowned. With Awe Do Strangers' Eyes Discern A Casket Mid The Green Luxuriance Of Flower And Fern; Airy And Cool And Clean, Unchanged From Spring To Spring'S Return, This Charnel Chamber Scene. His Country'S Weal His Care And Thought, Beloved In Peace Was He; Magnanimous In War - Shall Not The Nation Grateful Be, And Render At His Burial Spot A Testimonial Free? Oh, Let Us, Ere The Days Come On When Energy Is Spent, To Him, The Silent Soldier Gone, Statesman And President, On Riverside'S Majestic Lawn Uprear A Monument.