was a human voice;
The singer was a man. America
Is poorer by a stalwart soul today,
And may feel pride that she hath given birth
To this stout laureate of old Mother Earth.
--_Punch_

Good-bye, Walt!
Good-bye from all you loved of Earth--
Rock, tree, dumb creature, man and woman--
To you their comrade human.
The last assault
Ends now, and now in some great world has birth
A minstrel, whose strong soul finds broader wings,
More brave imaginings.
Stars crown the hill-top where your dust shall lie,
Even as we say good-bye,
Good-bye, old Walt!
--_Edmund Clarence Stedman_

He was in love with truth and knew her near--
Her comrade, not her suppliant on the knee:
She gave him wild melodious words to be
Made music that should haunt the atmosphere.
She drew him to her bosom, day-long dear,
And pointed to the stars and to the sea,
And taught him miracles and mystery,
And made him master of the rounded year.
Yet one gift did she keep. He looked in vain,
Brow-shaded, through the darkness of the mist,
Marking a beauty like a wandering breath
That beckoned, yet denied his soul a tryst:
He sang a passion, yet he saw not plain
Till kind earth held him and he spake with death.
--_Harrison S. Morris_

Some find thee foul and rank and fetid, Walt,
Who cannot tell Arabia from a sty.
Thou followeth Truth, nor feareth, nor doth halt;
Truth: and the sole uncleanness is a lie.
--_William Watson_

Presage of strength yet to be, voice of the youngest of Time,
Singer of the golden dawn,
From thy great message must come light for the bettering days,
Joy to the hands that toil,
Might to the hopes that droop,
Power to the Nation reborn,
Poet and master and seer, helper and friend unto men,
Truth that shall pass into the life of us all!
--_Louis J. Block_

Send but a song oversea for us,
Heart of their hearts who are free,
Heart of their singer to be for us
More than our singing can be;
Ours, in the tempest at error,
With no light but the twilight of terror;
Send us a song oversea!

Sweet-smelling of pine-leaves and grasses,
And