The power that touched all human chords
    With wit that lightened thro’ the years
Without a sting, whose tender words
    Unsealed the fountain of our tears—
        Ah! bow the heart and bend the head—
        The Prince of Courtesy is dead.

Great Singer of the South, who set
    Thy face to Duty as a star,
Though, in hushed skies of violet,
    Thy throne of kingship gleamed afar,
        Shall not the toil of common days
        Add nobler lustre to thy bays!

O Mighty Voice, whose words shall stand—
    When all our songs have ceased to be—
Steadfast, the watchwords of our land,
    The guide and torch of Liberty!
        The Master-Poet called afar,
        And thou at last hast found thy star!