On The Death Of Dr. Benjamin Franklin in  General   

Thus, some tall tree that long hath stood
The glory of its native wood,
By storms destroyed, or length of years,
Demands the tribute of our tears.

The pile, that took long time to raise,
To dust returns by slow decays:
But, when its destined years are o'er,
We must regret the loss the more.

So long accustomed to your aid,
The world laments your exit made;
So long befriended by your art,
Philosopher, 'tis hard to part!--

When monarchs tumble to the ground,
Successors easily are found:
But, matchless FRANKLIN! what a few
Can hope to rival such as YOU,
Who seized from kings their sceptered pride,
And turned the lightning darts aside.

By Philip Freneau

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Other poems by Philip Freneau:

• Ode
• On a Honey Bee
• On Retirement
• On The Death Of Dr. Benjamin Franklin
• On the Ruins of a Country Inn
• On the Universality and Other Attributes of the Go
• Song of Thyrsis
• The Indian Burying Ground
• The Republican Genius of Europe
• The Vernal Age
• The Wild Honey-Suckle
• To A New England Poet