Wail, winds of summer, as ye sweep br The arching skies; br O, let your echoes swell with deep, br Woe-piercing cries! br br Old ocean, with a heavy surge, br Cold, black and drear, br Roll thou the solemn note of dirge br On Europe's ear! br br Sweet stars, that calmly, purely bright, br Look down below, br O, pity with your eyes of light br A Nation's woe! br br Thou source of day, that rollest on br Though tempests frown, br Thou mind'st us of another sun br That has gone down! br br Gone down,--no more may mortal eye br Its face behold! br Gone down,--yet leaving on the sky br A tinge of gold! br br Ah, yes! Columbia, pause to hear br The note of dread; br 'Twill smite like iron on the ear;-- br Our Clay is dead! br br Our Clay; the patriot, statesman, sage, br The Nation's pride, br With giant minds of every age br Identified! br br That form of manliness and strength br In Senate hall, br Is lying at a fearful length br Beneath the pall! br br That voice of eloquence no more br Suspends the breath; br Its matchless power to charm is o'er-- br 'Tis hushed in death! br br Thrice noble spirit! can we bow, br And kiss the rod? br With resignation yield thee now br Back to thy God? br br And where, where shall we turn to find br Now thou 'rt at rest, br A soul so lofty, just and kind, br As warmed thy breast? br br We bear thee, with a flood of tears, br Unto thy tomb; br There thou must sleep till rolling years br Have met their doom! br br But thy bright fame and memory br Shall send a chime br From circling ages down to the br Remotest time! br br O, may thy mantle fall on some br Of this our day, br And shed upon the years to come br A happy ray!br br Frances Ellen Watkins Harperbr br