John Boyle O'Reilly
A Dead Man
Trapper died—our hero—and we grieved;
In every heart in camp the sorrow stirred.
'His soul was red!' the Indian cried, bereaved;
'A white man, he!' the grim old Yankee's word.
So, brief and strong, each mourner gave his best—
How kind he was, how brave, how keen to track;
And as we laid him by the pines to rest,
A negro spoke, with tears: 'His heart was black!'
''Island of Destiny! Innisfail! for thy faith is the payment near!
The mine of the future is opened, and the golden veins appear.
Thy hands are white and thy page unstained. Reach out for thy glorious years,
And take them from God as his recompense for thy fortitude and tears.'
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Comments about this poem (A Dead Man by John Boyle O'Reilly )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(1563 - 1631)
(7 May 1892 – 20 April 1982)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)
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