12 







Curtis: Lucien Marcus Underwood 



"Above the city's noise and strife 

 Oft has ray soul found rest, 

 As to the weary work-dimmed eye 

 Thou gavest visions blest. 



On land or sea 



I turn to thee 

 As worn bird to her nest. 



"Thence have I marked the seasons tread . 

 Their stately solemn round ; 

 Thence have I watched the Storm-King's flight 

 On angry mission bound. 

 In winter drear 

 Or summer's cheer 

 Thou'rt ever hallowed ground. 



11 How have I loved at eve to pause 

 And scan the western sky, 

 What time the sun with affluence flung 

 His crimson banners high. 



A promise fair 



Of days more rare 

 When life's last night draw r s nigh. 



"Above thy gabled roofs 



The heavens bend more low ; 

 The ceaseless tides of human life 

 Below thee ebb and flow. 



Within thy walls 



Love's gentle calls 

 Make Paradise below." 



Our friend rests in a place which almost seems to have been 

 designed by nature for him, on a hillside in the little rural ceme- 

 tery of Umpawaug at Redding, bordered by two fern -banked 

 streams babbling down to the near-by glen of the Saugatuck, 

 through which he so much loved to take his friends. 







