Still glides the stream, and shall forever glide;
The form remains, the function never dies;
While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
We men, who in our morn of youth defied
The elements, must vanish; -- be it so!
Enough if something from our hands have power,
To live, and act, and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
Though love, though hope, and faith's transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.
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