One of the few, the immortal names, That were not born to die. - Fitz-Greene Halleck

There is an evening twilight of the heart,
When its wild passion-waves are lulled to rest.

Such graves as his are pilgrim shrines, Shrines to no code or creed confined,—
The Delphian vales, the Palestines, The Meccas of the mind.

Green be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days!
None knew thee but to love thee, Nor named thee but to praise.