Jefferson Davis: 1808-1889 br br No more the white refulgent streets. br Never the dry hollows of the mind br Shall he in fine courtesy walk br Again, for death is not unkind. br br A civil war cast on his fame, br The four years' odium of strife br Unbodies his dust; love cannot warm br His tall corpuscles to this life. br br What did we gain? What did we lose? br Be still; grief for the pious dead br Suspires from bosoms of kind souls br Lavender-wise, propped up in bed. br br Our loss put six feet under ground br Is measured by the magnolia's root; br Our gain's the intellectual sound br Of death's feet round a weedy tomb. br br In the back chambers of the State br (Just preterition for his crimes) br We curse him to our busy sky br Who's busy in a hell a hundred times br br A day, though profitless his task, br Heedless what Belial may say- br He who wore out the perfect mask br Orestes fled in night and day.