No gloom o'er Nature's face is spread,
Though to his rest her son is gone;
He who her choir in song has led,
And her bright crown, and laurel won.

She comes in all her beauty bloom,
To deck the forest, field, and hill;
Her roses breathe their sweet perfume,
Her songs the groves with music fill.

Why should we mourn? with honors crowned,
And length of days, he passed away;
A nobler life than this has found,
Why on the earth prolong his stay?

Why mourn the Patriot, and the Man,
Lover of Country, and his race;
Who, in his broad, far reaching plan,
Could all mankind as one embrace?

Why do we mourn? for still shall live
The strains, which Nature's self inspired;
To other minds his genius give,
And other hearts by his be fired.