'Tis meet the sleeper rest at last Amidst the Nation's honored dead. Unheralded by sounding brass, Or by the beat of martial tread; Clothed in no purple robe of state, For him no honors save the glow Of tender memory for a friend Kind Fortune gave us long ago; No fame save memory for a son God-gifted with an iron will, Whose mighty genius brought to life The city white upon the hill. Beneath the skies of boyhood days, In silent beauty place here Within the home which taught him strength, Beside the heroes we revere— And passing winds from o'er the hills Shall bear abroad to all the land The name of one who led in peace; Of him who loved his fellow man.

—Percy F. Montgomery.