Death Of D'Arcy Mcgee

He stood up in the house to speak,
    With calm unruffled brow,
And never were his burning words
    More eloquent than now

Fresh from the greatest victory
    That mortal man can win
The triumph against fearful odds.
Over besetting sin

'Twas this gave to his eloquence
    That thrilling trumpet tone
Moving all hearts with those bright thoughts
    Vibrating through his own

Thoughts strong, and wise, and statesmanlike,
    Warm with the love of Right
That gave his wit its keenest edge,
    His words their greatest might

He little thought his last speech closed,
    That his career was o'er,
That those who hung upon his words
    Should hear his voice no more.

He walked home tranquilly and slow,
    Secure, and unaware,
That there was murder in the hush
    Of the still midnight air.

"Tis morning," said he, knowing not
    That he had done with time;
That a bloody hand would our country stain
    With another useless crime.

He stood before a portal closed
    To him for evermore,
Behind him with uncreaking hinge
    Oped the eternal door.

And ere the east grew red again,
    His life blood's purple flow
Had made that pavement holy ground,
    And filled the land with woe.

My country! Oh my country!
    What is to thee the gain?
Wilt nourish trees of liberty
    In blood so foully slain?