Poem by Edmund Clarence Stedman

On a Great Man Whose Mind Is Clouding

That sovereign thought obscured? That vision clear
⁠Dimmed in the shadow of the sable wing,
⁠And fainter grown the fine interpreting
Which as an oracle was ours to hear!
Nay, but the Gods reclaim not from the seer
⁠Their gift,—although he ceases here to sing,
⁠And, like the antique sage, a covering
Draws round his head, knowing what change is near. 

1. “Ergo Iris”
2. The Duke’s Exequy
3. Falstaff's Song
4. On White Carnations Given Me for My Birthday
5. Sumter

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