| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 549. At Chappaqua |
| | | By Joel Benton |
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| HIS cherished woods are mute. The stream glides down | |
| The hill as when I knew it years ago; | |
| The dark, pine arbor with its priestly gown | |
| Stands hushed, as if our grief it still would show; | |
| The silver springs are cupless, and the flow | 5 |
| Of friendly feet no more bereaves the grass, | |
| For he is absent who was wont to pass | |
| Along this wooded path. His axe’s blow | |
| No more disturbs the impertinent bole or bough; | |
| Nor moves his pen our heedless nation now, | 10 |
| Which, sworn to justice, stirred the people so. | |
| In some far world his much-loved face must glow | |
| With rapture still. This breeze once fanned his brow. | |
| This is the peaceful Mecca all men know! | |
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