To the Cubans

ALAS, we've read with grief the mournful story!How truly touching is the record hereOf him who won the spotless wreath of glory,Now resting calmly on the solemn bier.With cypress boughs our stars and stripes they blended,To robe his form and deck his funeral car;They bowed their hearts, nor felt they condescendedWhile paying homage to our nation's star.Ye noble sons, who watched his dying pillowUntil the brittle thread of life was riven,Who watched the wave, the overwhelming billowThat bore his spirit up to yon bright heaven,To you, who dwelt in that sweet isle of flowers,Springing spontaneously from the virgin sod,Where golden fruits bedeck the perfumed bowersAnd all things whisper of a loving God,—To you we'd sing; to you our songs are flowing,For all appeals to which you did respond;Now friendship's rays we'll keep united, glowing,—'Twill cheer our pathway to the world beyond;To you, most gracious Ecarrvaria, guidingThe reins of power how wisely and how well,May loving hearts, 'neath your soft skies residing,Embalm your deeds, and Spain's fair history tell.