Eagle of flowers! I see thee stand, And on the sun's noon-glory gaze; With eye like his, thy lids expand, And fringe their disk with golden rays: Though fix'd on earth, in darkness rooted there, Light is thy element, thy dwelling air, Thy prospect heaven.
James MontgomeryThe Dead are like the stars by day; Withdrawn from mortal eye, But not extinct, they hold their way In glory through the sky.
James Montgomery