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?