Ross.

"A voice from Death, solemn and strange, in all his sweep and power,
With sudden, indescribable blow - towns drown'd - humanity by thousands slain...

Yea, Death, we bow our faces, veil our eyes to thee,
We mourn the old, the young untimely drawn to thee,
The fair, the strong, the good, the capable...

Then after burying, mourning the dead,
(Faithful to them found or unfound, forgetting not, bearing the past, here new musing,)
A day - a passing moment or an hour - America itself bends low,
Silent, resign'd, submissive...

The blossoms rapidly blooming, sympathy, help, love,
From West and East, from South and North and over sea,
Its hot-spurr'd hearts and hands humanity to human aid moves on;
And from within a thought and lesson yet...

[I] Have lost my recognition of your silent ever-swaying, ye mighty, elemental throes,
In which and upon which we float, and everyone of us is buoy'd."

- Walt Whitman from "A Voice from Death"