The following is an excerpt from aCentennial Poemread by B. F. Taylor on Decoration Day (May 30, 1876), on the occasion of the centennial celebration by the Department of the Potomac, Grand Army of the Republic, at Arlington Cemetery, Washington, D. C.Theysee the pilgrims to the Springfieldtomb—Be proud today, oh, portico ofgloom!—Where lies the man in solitary stateWho never caused a tear but when he diedAnd set the flags around the world half-mast—The gentle Tribune and so grandly greatThat e'en the utter avarice of DeathThat claims the world, and will not be denied,Could only rob him of his mortal breath.How strange the splendor, though the man be past!His noblest inspiration was his last.The statues of the Capitol are there.As when he stood upon the marble stairAnd said those words so tender, true and just,A royal psalm that took mankind ontrust—Those words that will endure and he in them,While May wears flowers upon her broidered hem,And all that marble snows and drifts to dust:"Fondly do we hope, fervently we prayThat this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away:With charity for all, with malice toward none,With firmness in the rightAs God shall give us light,Let us finish the work already begun,Care for the battle sons, the Nation's wounds to bind,Care for the helpless ones that they will leave behind,Cherish it we will, achieve it if we can,A just and lasting peace, forever unto man!"Amid old Europe's rude and thundering years,When people strove as battle-clouds are driven,One calm white angel of a day appearsIn every year a gift direct from Heaven,Wherein, from setting sun to setting sunNo thought of deed of bitterness was done."Day of the Truce of God!" Be this day ours,Until perpetual peace flows like a riverAnd hopes as fragrant as these tribute flowersFill all the land forever and forever!topPRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Brady, Washington, D. C.topHermann Hagedorn, born in New York, July 18, 1882. Instructor in English at Harvard in 1909-1911. Wrote several one-act plays which were produced by the Harvard Dramatic Club, and by clubs of other colleges. Author ofThe Silver Blade(a play in verse),The Woman of Corinth,A Troop of the Guardand other poems.OH, PATIENT EYES!Oh, patient eyes! oh, bleeding, mangled heart!Oh, hero, whose wide soul, defying chains,Swept at each army's head,Swept to the charge and bled,Gathering in one too sorrow-laden heartAll woes, all pains;The anguish of the trusted hope that wanes,The soldier's wound, the lonely mourner's smart.He knew the noisy horror of the fight,From dawn to dusk and through the hideous nightHe heard the hiss of bullets, the shrill screamOf the wide-arching shell,Scattering at Gettysburg or by Potomac's stream,Like summer flowers, the pattering rain of death;With every breath,He tasted battle and in every dream,Trailing like mists from gaping walls of hell,He heard the thud of heroes as they fell.topPRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by BradytopMargaret Elizabeth Sangster, born at New Rochelle, New York, February 22, 1838. Educated privately, chiefly in New York. Became contributor to leading periodicals; also editor ofHearth and Home,1871-73;Christian at Work,1873-79;The Christian Intelligencersince 1879; postmistressHarper's Young People,1882-89; editorHarper's Bazar,1889-99; staff contributorChristian Heraldsince 1894;Ladies' Home Journal,1899-1905;Woman's Home Companionsince 1905. AuthorPoems of the Household;Home Fairies and Heart Flowers;On the Road Home;Easter Bells;Winsome Womanhood;Little Knights and Ladies;Lyrics of Love;When Angels Come to Men;Good Manners for All Occasions;The Story Bible;Fairest Girlhood;From My Youth Up;Happy School Days.She died June 4, 1912.ABRAHAM LINCOLN(February 12, 1809-1909)Childof the boundless prairie, son of the virgin soil,Heir to the bearing of burdens, brother to them that toil;God and Nature together shaped him to lead in the van,In the stress of her wildest weather when the Nation needed a Man.Eyes of a smoldering fire, heart of a lion at bay,Patience to plan for tomorrow, valor to serve for today,Mournful and mirthful and tender, quick as a flash with a jest,Hiding with gibe and great laughter the ache that was dull in his breast.topMet were the Man and the Hour—Man who was strong for theshock—Fierce were the lightnings unleashed; in the midst, he stood fast as a rock.Comrade he was and commander, he who was meant for the time,Iron in council and action, simple, aloof, and sublime.Swift slip the years from their tether, centuries pass like a breath,Only some lives are immortal, challenging darkness and death.Hewn from the stuff of the martyrs, write on the stardust his name,Glowing, untarnished, transcendent, high on the records of Fame.Oh, man of many sorrows, 'twas your bloodThat flowed at Chickamauga, at Bull Run,Vicksburg, Antietam, and the gory woodAnd Wilderness of ravenous Deaths that stoodRound Richmond like a ghostly garrison:Your blood for those who won,For those who lost, your tears!For you the strife, the fears,For us, the sun!For you the lashing winds and the beating rain in your eyes,For us the ascending stars and the wide, unbounded skies.Oh, man of storms! Patient and kingly soul!Oh, wise physician of a wasted land!A nation felt upon its heart your hand,And lo, your hand hath made the shattered, whole,topWith iron clasp your hand hath held the wheelOf the lurching ship, on tempest waves no keelHath ever sailed.A grim smile held your lips when strong men quailed.You strove alone with chaos and prevailed;You felt the grinding shock and did not reel,And, ah, your hand that cut the battle's pathWide with the devastating plague of wrath,Your bleeding hand, gentle with pity yet,Did not forgetTo bless, to succor, and to heal.topPRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C., 1864topWilbur Dick Nesbitwas born at Xenia, Ohio, September 16, 1871. Educated in the public schools at Cedarville, Ohio. Was printer and reporter on various Ohio and Indiana papers until 1898; verse writer and paragrapherBaltimore American,1899-1902; since that year writer of verse and humorChicago Evening Postand other newspapers, contributor of stories and poems to magazines and periodicals. Author ofLittle Henry's Slate,1903;The Trail to Boyland and Other Poems,1904;An Alphabet of History,1905;The Gentleman Ragman,1906;A Book of Poems,1906;The Land of Make-Believe and Other Christmas Poems,1907;A Friend or Two,1908;The Loving Cup(compilation), 1909;The Old, Old Wish,1911;My Company of Friends,1911;If the Heart be Glad,1911; co-author with Otto Hauerbach ofThe Girl of My Dreams,a musical comedy, 1910.THE MAN LINCOLNNotas the great who grow more greatUntil from us they areapart—He walks with us in man's estate;We know his was a brother heart.The marching years may render dimThe humanness of other men;Today we are akin to himAs they who knew him best were then.Wars have been won by mail-clad hands,Realms have been ruled by sword-hedged kings,But he above these others standsAs one who loved the common things;The common faith of man was his,The common faith of man hehad—For this today his grave face isA face half joyous and half sad.topA man of earth! Of earthy stuff,As honest as the fruitful soil,Gnarled as the friendly trees, and roughAs hillsides that had known his toil;Of earthy stuff—let it be told,For earth-born men rise and revealA courage fair as beaten goldAnd the enduring strength of steel.So now he dominates our thought.This humble great man holds us thusBecause of all he dreamed and wrought;Because he is akin to us.He held his patient trust in truthWhile God was working out His plan,And they that were his foes, forsooth,Came to pay tribute to the Man.Not as the great who grow more greatUntil they have a mysticfame—No stroke of fortune nor of fateGave Lincoln his undying name.A common man, earth-bred, earth-born,One of the breed who work andwait—His was a soul above all scorn.His was a heart above all hate.topPRESIDENT LINCOLN AT ANTIETAMPhotograph taken on the battlefield, September, 1862, with General McClellan and Allen PinkertontopEdwin Arlington Robinson, born at Head Tide, Maine, December 22, 1869. Educated at Gardiner, Maine, and Harvard University, 1891-3. Member National Institute Arts and Letters. Author:The TorrentandThe Night Before,1896;The Children of the Night,1897, 1905;Captain Craig(poems),The Town Down the River,1910.THE MASTER(LINCOLN)A flyingword from here and thereHad sown the name at which we sneered,But soon the name was everywhere,To be reviled and then revered:A presence to be loved and feared,We cannot hide it, or denyThat we, the gentlemen who jeered,May be forgotten by and by.He came when days were perilousAnd hearts of men were sore beguiled;And having made his note of us,He pondered and was reconciled.Was ever master yet so mildAs he, and so untamable?We doubted, even when he smiled,Not knowing what he knew so well.He knew that undeceiving fateWould shame us whom he served unsought;He knew that he must wince andwait—The jest of those for whom he fought;He knew devoutly what he thoughtOf us and of our ridicule;He knew that we must all be taughtLike little children in a school.topWe gave a glamour to the taskThat he encountered and saw through,But little of us did he ask,And little did we ever do.And what appears if we reviewThe season when we railed and chaffed?It is the face of one who knewThat we were learning while we laughed.The face that in our vision feelsAgain the venom that we flung,Transfigured to the world revealsThe vigilance to which we clung.Shrewd, hallowed, harassed, and amongThe mysteries that are untold,The face we see was never youngNor could it ever have been old.For he, to whom we had appliedOur shopman's test of age and worth,Was elemental when he died,As he was ancient at his birth:The saddest among kings of earth,Bowed with a galling crown, this manMet rancor with a cryptic mirth,Laconic—and Olympian.The love, the grandeur, and the fameAre bounded by the world alone;The calm, the smouldering, and the flameOf awful patience were his own;With him they are forever flownPast all our fond self-shadowings,Wherewith we cumber the UnknownAs with inept, Icarian wings.topFor we were not as other men:'Twas ours to soar and his to see.But we are coming down again,And we shall come down pleasantly;Nor shall we longer disagreeOn what it is to be sublime,But flourish in our perigeeAnd have one Titan at a time.PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Gardner, Washington, D. C. Taken when Lincoln appointed General U. S. Grant Commander-in-chief of the Army, in 1864topLINCOLNBy Harriet MonroeAnd, lo! leading a blessed host comes oneWho held a warring nation in his heart;Who knew love's agony, but had no partIn love's delight; whose mighty task was doneThrough blood and tears that we might walk in joy,And this day's rapture own no sad alloy.Around him heirs of bliss, whose bright brows wearPalm leaves amid their laurels ever fair.Gaily they come, as though the drumBeat out the call their glad hearts knew so well;Brothers once more, dear as of yore,Who in a noble conflict nobly fell.Their blood washed pure yon banner in the sky,And quenched the brands laid 'neath these archeshigh—The brave who, having fought, can never die.topPRESIDENT-ELECT LINCOLNFrom a photograph taken with his Secretaries, John G. Nicolay and John Hay, Springfield, Illinois, 186topWalt Mason, born at Columbus, Ontario, May 4, 1862. Self educated. Came to the United States 1880. Connected with theAtchinson Globe1885-7, later withLincoln(Nebraska)State Journaland other papers; editorial paragrapherEvening News,Washington, D. C., 1893; associated with William Allen White onEmporia(Kansas)Gazettesince 1907. His rhymes and prose poems are widely copied in America.THE EYES OF LINCOLNSadeyes that were patient and tender,Sad eyes that were steadfast and true,And warm with the unchanging splendorOf courage no ills could subdue!Eyes dark with the dread of the morrow,And woe for the day that was gone,The sleepless companions of sorrow,The watchers that witnessed the dawn.Eyes tired from the clamor and goadingAnd dim from the stress of the years,And hallowed by pain and forebodingAnd strained by repression of tears.Sad eyes that were wearied and blightedBy visions of sieges and warsNow watch o'er a country unitedFrom the luminous slopes of the stars!topPRESIDENT LINCOLN IN 1862Photograph by Matthew Brady, Washington, D. C.topArthur Guiterman, author, born of American parentage, at Vienna, Austria, November 20, 1871. Editorial work onWoman's Home Companion,Literary Digestand other magazines since 1891. Author ofBetel Nuts,1907;Guest Book,1908;Rubiayat,including theLiterary Omar,1909, andOrestes(with Andre Tridon), 1909. Contributor chiefly of ballad, lyric verse and short stories to magazines and newspapers.HE LEADS US STILLDarewe despair? Through all the nights and daysOf lagging war he kept his courage true.Shall Doubt befog our eyes? A darker hazeBut proved the faith of him who ever knewThat Right must conquer. May we cherish hateFor our poor griefs, when never word nor deedOf rancor, malice, spite, of low or great,In his large soul one poison-drop could breed?He leads us still. O'er chasms yet unspannedOur pathway lies; the work is but begun;But we shall do our part and leave our landThe mightier for noble battles won.Here Truth must triumph, Honor must prevail;The nation Lincoln died for cannot fail!topPRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1864topS. Weir Mitchell, born at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, February 15, 1829. Educated in grammar school, and University of Pennsylvania, but was not graduated because of illness during senior year; Doctor of Medicine, Jefferson Medical College, 1850; LL.D., Harvard, 1886; Edinburgh, 1895; Princeton, 1896; Toronto, 1896; Jefferson Medical College, Philadelphia, 1910. Established practice in Philadelphia. Author of many works on treatment of diseases.Collected Poems,1896-1909;Youth of Washington,1904;A Diplomatic Adventure,1905;The Mind Reader,1907;A Christmas Venture,1907;John Sherwood, Ironmaster,1911.LINCOLNChainedby stern duty to the rock of State,His spirit armed in mail of rugged mirth,Ever above, though ever near to earth,Yet felt his heart the cruel tongues that sateBase appetites and, foul with slander, waitTill the keen lightnings bring the awful hourWhen wounds and suffering shall give them power.Most was he like to Luther, gay and great,Solemn and mirthful, strong of heart and limb.Tender and simple, too; he was so nearTo all things human that he cast out fear,And, ever simpler, like a little child,Lived in unconscious nearness unto HimWho always on earth's little ones hath smiled.topSTATUE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLNIn the Public Square, Hodgenville, Kentucky. Adolph A. Weinman, SculptorGeorge Alfred Townsendwas born in Georgetown, Delaware, January 30, 1841. In 1860 he began writing for the press and speaking in public, and in 1860 adopted the profession of journalism. In 1862 he became a war correspondent for theNew York World,theChicago Tribuneand other papers, and made an enviable reputation as a descriptive writer. He also published a number of books both of prose and poetry.topABRAHAM LINCOLNThepeaceful valley reaching wide,The wild war stilled on every hand;On Pisgah's top our prophet died,In sight of promised land.Low knelt the foeman's serried fronts,His cannon closed their lips ofbrass,—The din of arms hushed all at onceTo let this good man pass.A cheerful heart he wore alway,Though tragic years clashed on the while;Death sat behind him at theplay—His last look was a smile.No battle-pike his march imbrued,Unarmed he went midst martial mails,The footsore felt their hopes renewedTo hear his homely tales.His single arm crushed wrong and thrallThat grand good will we only dreamed,Two races wept around his pall,One saved and one redeemed.The trampled flag he raised again,And healed our eagle's broken wing;The night that scattered armed menSaw scorpions rise to sting.topPRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1864Paul Lawrence Dunbar, born of negro parents at Dayton, Ohio, June 27, 1872. Was graduated at the Dayton High School in 1891, and since then has devoted himself to literature and journalism. He has writtenOak and Ivy(poems);Lyrics of Lowly Life(poems), andThe Uncalled(a novel). Since 1898 he has been on the staff of the Librarian of Congress.topLINCOLNHurtwas the Nation with a mighty wound,And all her ways were filled with clam'rous sound.Wailed loud the South with unremitting grief,And wept the North that could not find relief.Then madness joined its harshest tone to strife:A minor note swelled in the song of lifeTill, stirring with the love that filled his breast,But still, unflinching at the Right's behestGrave Lincoln came, strong-handed, fromafar,—The mighty Homer of the lyre of war!'Twas he who bade the raging tempest cease,Wrenched from his strings the harmony of peace,Muted the strings that made the discord,—Wrong,And gave his spirit up in thund'rous song.Oh, mighty Master of the mighty lyre!Earth heard and trembled at thy strains of fire:Earth learned of thee what Heaven already knew,And wrote thee down among her treasured few!topPRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Gardner, Washington, D. C., 1865Alice Carywas born in Mount Healthy, near Cincinnati, Ohio, April 20, 1820. Her first book of poems, with her sister Phoebe, was published in 1850. Her poems and prose writings were pictures from life and nature, among which werePictures of Memory,Mulberry Hill,Coming HomeandNobility.She died at her home in New York City, February 12, 1871. This poem is inscribed to theLondon Punch.topABRAHAM LINCOLNNoglittering chaplet brought from other lands!As in his life, this man, in death, is ours;His own loved prairies o'er his "gaunt, gnarled hands,"Have fitly drawn their sheet of summer flowers!What need hath he now of a tardy crown,His name from mocking jest and sneer to saveWhen every plowman turns his furrow downAs soft as though it fell upon his grave?He was a man whose like the world againShall never see, to vex with blame or praise;The landmarks that attest his bright, brief reign,Are battles, not the pomps of gala days!The grandest leader of the grandest warThat ever time in history gave aplace,—What were the tinsel flattery of a starTo such a breast! or what a ribbon's grace!'Tis to th' man, and th' man's honest worth,The Nation's loyalty in tears upsprings;Through him the soil of labor shines henceforth,High o'er the silken broideries of kings.The mechanism of eternalforms—The shifts that courtiers put their bodiesthrough—Were alien ways to him: his brawny armsHad other work than posturing to do!topPRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C., 1865Rose Terry Cookewas born in West Hartford, Connecticut, February 17, 1827. Graduated at Hartford Female Seminary in 1843. She has written many short stories and a number of books of poems.topABRAHAM LINCOLNHundredsthere have been, loftier than their kind,Heroes and victors in the world's great wars:Hundreds, exalted as the eternal stars,By the great heart, or keen and mighty mind;There have been sufferers, maimed and halt and blind,Who bore their woes in such triumphant calmThat God hath crowned them with the martyr's palm;And there were those who fought through fire to findTheir Master's face, and were by fire refined.But who like thee, oh Sire! hath ever stoodSteadfast for truth and right, when lies and wrongRolled their dark waters, turbulent and strong;Who bore reviling, baseness, tears and bloodPoured out like water, till thine own was spent,Then reaped Earth's sole reward—a grave and monument!topPRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1865Frederick Lucian Hosmer, born at Framingham, Massachusetts, October 16, 1840. Graduated at Harvard in 1869. Ordained in Unitarian Ministry at Northboro, Massachusetts, in 1869. Author ofThe Way of Life,The Thought of God, in Hymns and Poems.topLINCOLNTheprairies to the mountains call,The mountains to the sea;From shore to shore a nation keepsHer martyr's memory.Though lowly born, the seal of GodWas in that rugged face;Still from the humble Nazareths comeThe Saviours of the race.With patient heart and vision clearHe wrought through tryingdays—"Malice toward none, with Charity for all,"Unswerved by blame or praise.And when the morn of peace broke throughThe battle's cloud and din,He hailed with joy the promised land,He might now enter in.He seemed as set by God apart,The winepress trod alone;He stands forth an uncrowned king,A people's heart his throne.Land of our loyal love and hope,O Land he died to save,Bow down, renew today thy vowsBeside his martyr grave!topCharles Monroe Dickinson, born at Lowville, New York, November 15, 1842. Educated at Fairfield (New York), Seminary and Lowville Academy. Admitted to the bar in 1865; practiced law in the State of Pennsylvania, at Binghamton, New York, and in New York City 1865-77, when he abandoned the profession because of broken health. Editor and proprietor ofBinghamton Republican,1878-1911. In 1892, upon his suggestion and initiative the various news organizations were combined into the present Associated Press. Presidential elector, 1896; United States Consul-General to Turkey, 1897-1906; Diplomatic agent to Bulgaria, 1901-1903. While acting in this capacity the American missionary, Ellen M. Stone, was carried off by brigands, but released through his settlement and efforts. Member board to draft regulations for government of American consular service 1906; American Consul-General at-large, 1906-October 1, 1908. Author ofHistory of Dickinson Family,1885;The Children and Other Verses,1889; part of political history of State of New York, 1911.ABRAHAM LINCOLNIfany one hath doubt or fearThat this is Freedom's chosenclime—That God hath sown and planted hereThe richest harvest field ofTime—Let him take heart, throw off his fears,As he looks back a hundred years.Cities and fields and wealth untold,With equal rights before the law;And, better than all lands andgold—Such as the old world neversaw—Freedom and peace, the right to be,And honor to those who made us free.topOur greatness did not happen so,We owe it not to chance or fate;In furnace heat, by blow on blow,Were forged the things that make us great;And men still live who bore that heat,And felt those deadly hammers beat.Not in the pampered courts of kings,Not in the homes that rich men keep,God calls His Davids with their slings,Or wakes His Samuels from their sleep;But from the homes of toil and needCalls those who serve as well as lead.Such was the hero of our race;Skilled in the school of common things,He felt the sweat on Labor's face,He knew the pinch of want, the stingThe bondman felt, and all the wrongThe weak had suffered from the strong.God passed the waiting centuries by,And kept him for our time ofneed—To lead us with his couragehigh—To make our country free indeed;Then, that he be by none surpassed,God crowned him martyr at the last.Let speech and pen and song proclaimOur grateful praise this natal morn;Time hath preserved no nobler name,And generations yet unbornShall swell the pride of those who canClaim Lincoln as their countryman.top
The following is an excerpt from aCentennial Poemread by B. F. Taylor on Decoration Day (May 30, 1876), on the occasion of the centennial celebration by the Department of the Potomac, Grand Army of the Republic, at Arlington Cemetery, Washington, D. C.
The following is an excerpt from aCentennial Poemread by B. F. Taylor on Decoration Day (May 30, 1876), on the occasion of the centennial celebration by the Department of the Potomac, Grand Army of the Republic, at Arlington Cemetery, Washington, D. C.
Theysee the pilgrims to the Springfieldtomb—Be proud today, oh, portico ofgloom!—Where lies the man in solitary stateWho never caused a tear but when he diedAnd set the flags around the world half-mast—The gentle Tribune and so grandly greatThat e'en the utter avarice of DeathThat claims the world, and will not be denied,Could only rob him of his mortal breath.How strange the splendor, though the man be past!His noblest inspiration was his last.The statues of the Capitol are there.As when he stood upon the marble stairAnd said those words so tender, true and just,A royal psalm that took mankind ontrust—Those words that will endure and he in them,While May wears flowers upon her broidered hem,And all that marble snows and drifts to dust:"Fondly do we hope, fervently we prayThat this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away:With charity for all, with malice toward none,With firmness in the rightAs God shall give us light,Let us finish the work already begun,Care for the battle sons, the Nation's wounds to bind,Care for the helpless ones that they will leave behind,Cherish it we will, achieve it if we can,A just and lasting peace, forever unto man!"Amid old Europe's rude and thundering years,When people strove as battle-clouds are driven,One calm white angel of a day appearsIn every year a gift direct from Heaven,Wherein, from setting sun to setting sunNo thought of deed of bitterness was done."Day of the Truce of God!" Be this day ours,Until perpetual peace flows like a riverAnd hopes as fragrant as these tribute flowersFill all the land forever and forever!
Theysee the pilgrims to the Springfieldtomb—
Be proud today, oh, portico ofgloom!—
Where lies the man in solitary state
Who never caused a tear but when he died
And set the flags around the world half-mast—
The gentle Tribune and so grandly great
That e'en the utter avarice of Death
That claims the world, and will not be denied,
Could only rob him of his mortal breath.
How strange the splendor, though the man be past!
His noblest inspiration was his last.
The statues of the Capitol are there.
As when he stood upon the marble stair
And said those words so tender, true and just,
A royal psalm that took mankind ontrust—
Those words that will endure and he in them,
While May wears flowers upon her broidered hem,
And all that marble snows and drifts to dust:
"Fondly do we hope, fervently we pray
That this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away:
With charity for all, with malice toward none,
With firmness in the right
As God shall give us light,
Let us finish the work already begun,
Care for the battle sons, the Nation's wounds to bind,
Care for the helpless ones that they will leave behind,
Cherish it we will, achieve it if we can,
A just and lasting peace, forever unto man!"
Amid old Europe's rude and thundering years,
When people strove as battle-clouds are driven,
One calm white angel of a day appears
In every year a gift direct from Heaven,
Wherein, from setting sun to setting sun
No thought of deed of bitterness was done.
"Day of the Truce of God!" Be this day ours,
Until perpetual peace flows like a river
And hopes as fragrant as these tribute flowers
Fill all the land forever and forever!
top
PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Brady, Washington, D. C.
top
Hermann Hagedorn, born in New York, July 18, 1882. Instructor in English at Harvard in 1909-1911. Wrote several one-act plays which were produced by the Harvard Dramatic Club, and by clubs of other colleges. Author ofThe Silver Blade(a play in verse),The Woman of Corinth,A Troop of the Guardand other poems.
Oh, patient eyes! oh, bleeding, mangled heart!Oh, hero, whose wide soul, defying chains,Swept at each army's head,Swept to the charge and bled,Gathering in one too sorrow-laden heartAll woes, all pains;The anguish of the trusted hope that wanes,The soldier's wound, the lonely mourner's smart.He knew the noisy horror of the fight,From dawn to dusk and through the hideous nightHe heard the hiss of bullets, the shrill screamOf the wide-arching shell,Scattering at Gettysburg or by Potomac's stream,Like summer flowers, the pattering rain of death;With every breath,He tasted battle and in every dream,Trailing like mists from gaping walls of hell,He heard the thud of heroes as they fell.
Oh, patient eyes! oh, bleeding, mangled heart!
Oh, hero, whose wide soul, defying chains,
Swept at each army's head,
Swept to the charge and bled,
Gathering in one too sorrow-laden heart
All woes, all pains;
The anguish of the trusted hope that wanes,
The soldier's wound, the lonely mourner's smart.
He knew the noisy horror of the fight,
From dawn to dusk and through the hideous night
He heard the hiss of bullets, the shrill scream
Of the wide-arching shell,
Scattering at Gettysburg or by Potomac's stream,
Like summer flowers, the pattering rain of death;
With every breath,
He tasted battle and in every dream,
Trailing like mists from gaping walls of hell,
He heard the thud of heroes as they fell.
top
PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Brady
top
Margaret Elizabeth Sangster, born at New Rochelle, New York, February 22, 1838. Educated privately, chiefly in New York. Became contributor to leading periodicals; also editor ofHearth and Home,1871-73;Christian at Work,1873-79;The Christian Intelligencersince 1879; postmistressHarper's Young People,1882-89; editorHarper's Bazar,1889-99; staff contributorChristian Heraldsince 1894;Ladies' Home Journal,1899-1905;Woman's Home Companionsince 1905. AuthorPoems of the Household;Home Fairies and Heart Flowers;On the Road Home;Easter Bells;Winsome Womanhood;Little Knights and Ladies;Lyrics of Love;When Angels Come to Men;Good Manners for All Occasions;The Story Bible;Fairest Girlhood;From My Youth Up;Happy School Days.She died June 4, 1912.
(February 12, 1809-1909)
Childof the boundless prairie, son of the virgin soil,Heir to the bearing of burdens, brother to them that toil;God and Nature together shaped him to lead in the van,In the stress of her wildest weather when the Nation needed a Man.
Childof the boundless prairie, son of the virgin soil,
Heir to the bearing of burdens, brother to them that toil;
God and Nature together shaped him to lead in the van,
In the stress of her wildest weather when the Nation needed a Man.
Eyes of a smoldering fire, heart of a lion at bay,Patience to plan for tomorrow, valor to serve for today,Mournful and mirthful and tender, quick as a flash with a jest,Hiding with gibe and great laughter the ache that was dull in his breast.top
Eyes of a smoldering fire, heart of a lion at bay,
Patience to plan for tomorrow, valor to serve for today,
Mournful and mirthful and tender, quick as a flash with a jest,
Hiding with gibe and great laughter the ache that was dull in his breast.
Met were the Man and the Hour—Man who was strong for theshock—Fierce were the lightnings unleashed; in the midst, he stood fast as a rock.Comrade he was and commander, he who was meant for the time,Iron in council and action, simple, aloof, and sublime.
Met were the Man and the Hour—Man who was strong for theshock—
Fierce were the lightnings unleashed; in the midst, he stood fast as a rock.
Comrade he was and commander, he who was meant for the time,
Iron in council and action, simple, aloof, and sublime.
Swift slip the years from their tether, centuries pass like a breath,Only some lives are immortal, challenging darkness and death.Hewn from the stuff of the martyrs, write on the stardust his name,Glowing, untarnished, transcendent, high on the records of Fame.
Swift slip the years from their tether, centuries pass like a breath,
Only some lives are immortal, challenging darkness and death.
Hewn from the stuff of the martyrs, write on the stardust his name,
Glowing, untarnished, transcendent, high on the records of Fame.
Oh, man of many sorrows, 'twas your bloodThat flowed at Chickamauga, at Bull Run,Vicksburg, Antietam, and the gory woodAnd Wilderness of ravenous Deaths that stoodRound Richmond like a ghostly garrison:Your blood for those who won,For those who lost, your tears!For you the strife, the fears,For us, the sun!For you the lashing winds and the beating rain in your eyes,For us the ascending stars and the wide, unbounded skies.
Oh, man of many sorrows, 'twas your blood
That flowed at Chickamauga, at Bull Run,
Vicksburg, Antietam, and the gory wood
And Wilderness of ravenous Deaths that stood
Round Richmond like a ghostly garrison:
Your blood for those who won,
For those who lost, your tears!
For you the strife, the fears,
For us, the sun!
For you the lashing winds and the beating rain in your eyes,
For us the ascending stars and the wide, unbounded skies.
Oh, man of storms! Patient and kingly soul!Oh, wise physician of a wasted land!A nation felt upon its heart your hand,And lo, your hand hath made the shattered, whole,topWith iron clasp your hand hath held the wheelOf the lurching ship, on tempest waves no keelHath ever sailed.A grim smile held your lips when strong men quailed.You strove alone with chaos and prevailed;You felt the grinding shock and did not reel,And, ah, your hand that cut the battle's pathWide with the devastating plague of wrath,Your bleeding hand, gentle with pity yet,Did not forgetTo bless, to succor, and to heal.
Oh, man of storms! Patient and kingly soul!
Oh, wise physician of a wasted land!
A nation felt upon its heart your hand,
And lo, your hand hath made the shattered, whole,
With iron clasp your hand hath held the wheel
Of the lurching ship, on tempest waves no keel
Hath ever sailed.
A grim smile held your lips when strong men quailed.
You strove alone with chaos and prevailed;
You felt the grinding shock and did not reel,
And, ah, your hand that cut the battle's path
Wide with the devastating plague of wrath,
Your bleeding hand, gentle with pity yet,
Did not forget
To bless, to succor, and to heal.
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PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C., 1864
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Wilbur Dick Nesbitwas born at Xenia, Ohio, September 16, 1871. Educated in the public schools at Cedarville, Ohio. Was printer and reporter on various Ohio and Indiana papers until 1898; verse writer and paragrapherBaltimore American,1899-1902; since that year writer of verse and humorChicago Evening Postand other newspapers, contributor of stories and poems to magazines and periodicals. Author ofLittle Henry's Slate,1903;The Trail to Boyland and Other Poems,1904;An Alphabet of History,1905;The Gentleman Ragman,1906;A Book of Poems,1906;The Land of Make-Believe and Other Christmas Poems,1907;A Friend or Two,1908;The Loving Cup(compilation), 1909;The Old, Old Wish,1911;My Company of Friends,1911;If the Heart be Glad,1911; co-author with Otto Hauerbach ofThe Girl of My Dreams,a musical comedy, 1910.
Notas the great who grow more greatUntil from us they areapart—He walks with us in man's estate;We know his was a brother heart.The marching years may render dimThe humanness of other men;Today we are akin to himAs they who knew him best were then.
Notas the great who grow more great
Until from us they areapart—
He walks with us in man's estate;
We know his was a brother heart.
The marching years may render dim
The humanness of other men;
Today we are akin to him
As they who knew him best were then.
Wars have been won by mail-clad hands,Realms have been ruled by sword-hedged kings,But he above these others standsAs one who loved the common things;The common faith of man was his,The common faith of man hehad—For this today his grave face isA face half joyous and half sad.top
Wars have been won by mail-clad hands,
Realms have been ruled by sword-hedged kings,
But he above these others stands
As one who loved the common things;
The common faith of man was his,
The common faith of man hehad—
For this today his grave face is
A face half joyous and half sad.
A man of earth! Of earthy stuff,As honest as the fruitful soil,Gnarled as the friendly trees, and roughAs hillsides that had known his toil;Of earthy stuff—let it be told,For earth-born men rise and revealA courage fair as beaten goldAnd the enduring strength of steel.
A man of earth! Of earthy stuff,
As honest as the fruitful soil,
Gnarled as the friendly trees, and rough
As hillsides that had known his toil;
Of earthy stuff—let it be told,
For earth-born men rise and reveal
A courage fair as beaten gold
And the enduring strength of steel.
So now he dominates our thought.This humble great man holds us thusBecause of all he dreamed and wrought;Because he is akin to us.He held his patient trust in truthWhile God was working out His plan,And they that were his foes, forsooth,Came to pay tribute to the Man.
So now he dominates our thought.
This humble great man holds us thus
Because of all he dreamed and wrought;
Because he is akin to us.
He held his patient trust in truth
While God was working out His plan,
And they that were his foes, forsooth,
Came to pay tribute to the Man.
Not as the great who grow more greatUntil they have a mysticfame—No stroke of fortune nor of fateGave Lincoln his undying name.A common man, earth-bred, earth-born,One of the breed who work andwait—His was a soul above all scorn.His was a heart above all hate.
Not as the great who grow more great
Until they have a mysticfame—
No stroke of fortune nor of fate
Gave Lincoln his undying name.
A common man, earth-bred, earth-born,
One of the breed who work andwait—
His was a soul above all scorn.
His was a heart above all hate.
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PRESIDENT LINCOLN AT ANTIETAMPhotograph taken on the battlefield, September, 1862, with General McClellan and Allen Pinkerton
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Edwin Arlington Robinson, born at Head Tide, Maine, December 22, 1869. Educated at Gardiner, Maine, and Harvard University, 1891-3. Member National Institute Arts and Letters. Author:The TorrentandThe Night Before,1896;The Children of the Night,1897, 1905;Captain Craig(poems),The Town Down the River,1910.
(LINCOLN)
A flyingword from here and thereHad sown the name at which we sneered,But soon the name was everywhere,To be reviled and then revered:A presence to be loved and feared,We cannot hide it, or denyThat we, the gentlemen who jeered,May be forgotten by and by.
A flyingword from here and there
Had sown the name at which we sneered,
But soon the name was everywhere,
To be reviled and then revered:
A presence to be loved and feared,
We cannot hide it, or deny
That we, the gentlemen who jeered,
May be forgotten by and by.
He came when days were perilousAnd hearts of men were sore beguiled;And having made his note of us,He pondered and was reconciled.Was ever master yet so mildAs he, and so untamable?We doubted, even when he smiled,Not knowing what he knew so well.
He came when days were perilous
And hearts of men were sore beguiled;
And having made his note of us,
He pondered and was reconciled.
Was ever master yet so mild
As he, and so untamable?
We doubted, even when he smiled,
Not knowing what he knew so well.
He knew that undeceiving fateWould shame us whom he served unsought;He knew that he must wince andwait—The jest of those for whom he fought;He knew devoutly what he thoughtOf us and of our ridicule;He knew that we must all be taughtLike little children in a school.top
He knew that undeceiving fate
Would shame us whom he served unsought;
He knew that he must wince andwait—
The jest of those for whom he fought;
He knew devoutly what he thought
Of us and of our ridicule;
He knew that we must all be taught
Like little children in a school.top
We gave a glamour to the taskThat he encountered and saw through,But little of us did he ask,And little did we ever do.And what appears if we reviewThe season when we railed and chaffed?It is the face of one who knewThat we were learning while we laughed.
We gave a glamour to the task
That he encountered and saw through,
But little of us did he ask,
And little did we ever do.
And what appears if we review
The season when we railed and chaffed?
It is the face of one who knew
That we were learning while we laughed.
The face that in our vision feelsAgain the venom that we flung,Transfigured to the world revealsThe vigilance to which we clung.Shrewd, hallowed, harassed, and amongThe mysteries that are untold,The face we see was never youngNor could it ever have been old.
The face that in our vision feels
Again the venom that we flung,
Transfigured to the world reveals
The vigilance to which we clung.
Shrewd, hallowed, harassed, and among
The mysteries that are untold,
The face we see was never young
Nor could it ever have been old.
For he, to whom we had appliedOur shopman's test of age and worth,Was elemental when he died,As he was ancient at his birth:The saddest among kings of earth,Bowed with a galling crown, this manMet rancor with a cryptic mirth,Laconic—and Olympian.
For he, to whom we had applied
Our shopman's test of age and worth,
Was elemental when he died,
As he was ancient at his birth:
The saddest among kings of earth,
Bowed with a galling crown, this man
Met rancor with a cryptic mirth,
Laconic—and Olympian.
The love, the grandeur, and the fameAre bounded by the world alone;The calm, the smouldering, and the flameOf awful patience were his own;With him they are forever flownPast all our fond self-shadowings,Wherewith we cumber the UnknownAs with inept, Icarian wings.top
The love, the grandeur, and the fame
Are bounded by the world alone;
The calm, the smouldering, and the flame
Of awful patience were his own;
With him they are forever flown
Past all our fond self-shadowings,
Wherewith we cumber the Unknown
As with inept, Icarian wings.top
For we were not as other men:'Twas ours to soar and his to see.But we are coming down again,And we shall come down pleasantly;Nor shall we longer disagreeOn what it is to be sublime,But flourish in our perigeeAnd have one Titan at a time.
For we were not as other men:
'Twas ours to soar and his to see.
But we are coming down again,
And we shall come down pleasantly;
Nor shall we longer disagree
On what it is to be sublime,
But flourish in our perigee
And have one Titan at a time.
PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Gardner, Washington, D. C. Taken when Lincoln appointed General U. S. Grant Commander-in-chief of the Army, in 1864
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By Harriet Monroe
And, lo! leading a blessed host comes oneWho held a warring nation in his heart;Who knew love's agony, but had no partIn love's delight; whose mighty task was doneThrough blood and tears that we might walk in joy,And this day's rapture own no sad alloy.Around him heirs of bliss, whose bright brows wearPalm leaves amid their laurels ever fair.Gaily they come, as though the drumBeat out the call their glad hearts knew so well;Brothers once more, dear as of yore,Who in a noble conflict nobly fell.Their blood washed pure yon banner in the sky,And quenched the brands laid 'neath these archeshigh—The brave who, having fought, can never die.
And, lo! leading a blessed host comes one
Who held a warring nation in his heart;
Who knew love's agony, but had no part
In love's delight; whose mighty task was done
Through blood and tears that we might walk in joy,
And this day's rapture own no sad alloy.
Around him heirs of bliss, whose bright brows wear
Palm leaves amid their laurels ever fair.
Gaily they come, as though the drum
Beat out the call their glad hearts knew so well;
Brothers once more, dear as of yore,
Who in a noble conflict nobly fell.
Their blood washed pure yon banner in the sky,
And quenched the brands laid 'neath these archeshigh—
The brave who, having fought, can never die.
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PRESIDENT-ELECT LINCOLNFrom a photograph taken with his Secretaries, John G. Nicolay and John Hay, Springfield, Illinois, 186
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Walt Mason, born at Columbus, Ontario, May 4, 1862. Self educated. Came to the United States 1880. Connected with theAtchinson Globe1885-7, later withLincoln(Nebraska)State Journaland other papers; editorial paragrapherEvening News,Washington, D. C., 1893; associated with William Allen White onEmporia(Kansas)Gazettesince 1907. His rhymes and prose poems are widely copied in America.
Sadeyes that were patient and tender,Sad eyes that were steadfast and true,And warm with the unchanging splendorOf courage no ills could subdue!
Sadeyes that were patient and tender,
Sad eyes that were steadfast and true,
And warm with the unchanging splendor
Of courage no ills could subdue!
Eyes dark with the dread of the morrow,And woe for the day that was gone,The sleepless companions of sorrow,The watchers that witnessed the dawn.
Eyes dark with the dread of the morrow,
And woe for the day that was gone,
The sleepless companions of sorrow,
The watchers that witnessed the dawn.
Eyes tired from the clamor and goadingAnd dim from the stress of the years,And hallowed by pain and forebodingAnd strained by repression of tears.
Eyes tired from the clamor and goading
And dim from the stress of the years,
And hallowed by pain and foreboding
And strained by repression of tears.
Sad eyes that were wearied and blightedBy visions of sieges and warsNow watch o'er a country unitedFrom the luminous slopes of the stars!
Sad eyes that were wearied and blighted
By visions of sieges and wars
Now watch o'er a country united
From the luminous slopes of the stars!
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PRESIDENT LINCOLN IN 1862Photograph by Matthew Brady, Washington, D. C.
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Arthur Guiterman, author, born of American parentage, at Vienna, Austria, November 20, 1871. Editorial work onWoman's Home Companion,Literary Digestand other magazines since 1891. Author ofBetel Nuts,1907;Guest Book,1908;Rubiayat,including theLiterary Omar,1909, andOrestes(with Andre Tridon), 1909. Contributor chiefly of ballad, lyric verse and short stories to magazines and newspapers.
Darewe despair? Through all the nights and daysOf lagging war he kept his courage true.Shall Doubt befog our eyes? A darker hazeBut proved the faith of him who ever knewThat Right must conquer. May we cherish hateFor our poor griefs, when never word nor deedOf rancor, malice, spite, of low or great,In his large soul one poison-drop could breed?
Darewe despair? Through all the nights and days
Of lagging war he kept his courage true.
Shall Doubt befog our eyes? A darker haze
But proved the faith of him who ever knew
That Right must conquer. May we cherish hate
For our poor griefs, when never word nor deed
Of rancor, malice, spite, of low or great,
In his large soul one poison-drop could breed?
He leads us still. O'er chasms yet unspannedOur pathway lies; the work is but begun;But we shall do our part and leave our landThe mightier for noble battles won.Here Truth must triumph, Honor must prevail;The nation Lincoln died for cannot fail!
He leads us still. O'er chasms yet unspanned
Our pathway lies; the work is but begun;
But we shall do our part and leave our land
The mightier for noble battles won.
Here Truth must triumph, Honor must prevail;
The nation Lincoln died for cannot fail!
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PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1864
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S. Weir Mitchell, born at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, February 15, 1829. Educated in grammar school, and University of Pennsylvania, but was not graduated because of illness during senior year; Doctor of Medicine, Jefferson Medical College, 1850; LL.D., Harvard, 1886; Edinburgh, 1895; Princeton, 1896; Toronto, 1896; Jefferson Medical College, Philadelphia, 1910. Established practice in Philadelphia. Author of many works on treatment of diseases.Collected Poems,1896-1909;Youth of Washington,1904;A Diplomatic Adventure,1905;The Mind Reader,1907;A Christmas Venture,1907;John Sherwood, Ironmaster,1911.
Chainedby stern duty to the rock of State,His spirit armed in mail of rugged mirth,Ever above, though ever near to earth,Yet felt his heart the cruel tongues that sateBase appetites and, foul with slander, waitTill the keen lightnings bring the awful hourWhen wounds and suffering shall give them power.Most was he like to Luther, gay and great,Solemn and mirthful, strong of heart and limb.Tender and simple, too; he was so nearTo all things human that he cast out fear,And, ever simpler, like a little child,Lived in unconscious nearness unto HimWho always on earth's little ones hath smiled.
Chainedby stern duty to the rock of State,
His spirit armed in mail of rugged mirth,
Ever above, though ever near to earth,
Yet felt his heart the cruel tongues that sate
Base appetites and, foul with slander, wait
Till the keen lightnings bring the awful hour
When wounds and suffering shall give them power.
Most was he like to Luther, gay and great,
Solemn and mirthful, strong of heart and limb.
Tender and simple, too; he was so near
To all things human that he cast out fear,
And, ever simpler, like a little child,
Lived in unconscious nearness unto Him
Who always on earth's little ones hath smiled.
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STATUE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLNIn the Public Square, Hodgenville, Kentucky. Adolph A. Weinman, Sculptor
George Alfred Townsendwas born in Georgetown, Delaware, January 30, 1841. In 1860 he began writing for the press and speaking in public, and in 1860 adopted the profession of journalism. In 1862 he became a war correspondent for theNew York World,theChicago Tribuneand other papers, and made an enviable reputation as a descriptive writer. He also published a number of books both of prose and poetry.
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Thepeaceful valley reaching wide,The wild war stilled on every hand;On Pisgah's top our prophet died,In sight of promised land.
Thepeaceful valley reaching wide,
The wild war stilled on every hand;
On Pisgah's top our prophet died,
In sight of promised land.
Low knelt the foeman's serried fronts,His cannon closed their lips ofbrass,—The din of arms hushed all at onceTo let this good man pass.
Low knelt the foeman's serried fronts,
His cannon closed their lips ofbrass,—
The din of arms hushed all at once
To let this good man pass.
A cheerful heart he wore alway,Though tragic years clashed on the while;Death sat behind him at theplay—His last look was a smile.
A cheerful heart he wore alway,
Though tragic years clashed on the while;
Death sat behind him at theplay—
His last look was a smile.
No battle-pike his march imbrued,Unarmed he went midst martial mails,The footsore felt their hopes renewedTo hear his homely tales.
No battle-pike his march imbrued,
Unarmed he went midst martial mails,
The footsore felt their hopes renewed
To hear his homely tales.
His single arm crushed wrong and thrallThat grand good will we only dreamed,Two races wept around his pall,One saved and one redeemed.
His single arm crushed wrong and thrall
That grand good will we only dreamed,
Two races wept around his pall,
One saved and one redeemed.
The trampled flag he raised again,And healed our eagle's broken wing;The night that scattered armed menSaw scorpions rise to sting.
The trampled flag he raised again,
And healed our eagle's broken wing;
The night that scattered armed men
Saw scorpions rise to sting.
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PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1864
Paul Lawrence Dunbar, born of negro parents at Dayton, Ohio, June 27, 1872. Was graduated at the Dayton High School in 1891, and since then has devoted himself to literature and journalism. He has writtenOak and Ivy(poems);Lyrics of Lowly Life(poems), andThe Uncalled(a novel). Since 1898 he has been on the staff of the Librarian of Congress.
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Hurtwas the Nation with a mighty wound,And all her ways were filled with clam'rous sound.Wailed loud the South with unremitting grief,And wept the North that could not find relief.Then madness joined its harshest tone to strife:A minor note swelled in the song of lifeTill, stirring with the love that filled his breast,But still, unflinching at the Right's behestGrave Lincoln came, strong-handed, fromafar,—The mighty Homer of the lyre of war!'Twas he who bade the raging tempest cease,Wrenched from his strings the harmony of peace,Muted the strings that made the discord,—Wrong,And gave his spirit up in thund'rous song.Oh, mighty Master of the mighty lyre!Earth heard and trembled at thy strains of fire:Earth learned of thee what Heaven already knew,And wrote thee down among her treasured few!
Hurtwas the Nation with a mighty wound,
And all her ways were filled with clam'rous sound.
Wailed loud the South with unremitting grief,
And wept the North that could not find relief.
Then madness joined its harshest tone to strife:
A minor note swelled in the song of life
Till, stirring with the love that filled his breast,
But still, unflinching at the Right's behest
Grave Lincoln came, strong-handed, fromafar,—
The mighty Homer of the lyre of war!
'Twas he who bade the raging tempest cease,
Wrenched from his strings the harmony of peace,
Muted the strings that made the discord,—Wrong,
And gave his spirit up in thund'rous song.
Oh, mighty Master of the mighty lyre!
Earth heard and trembled at thy strains of fire:
Earth learned of thee what Heaven already knew,
And wrote thee down among her treasured few!
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PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Gardner, Washington, D. C., 1865
Alice Carywas born in Mount Healthy, near Cincinnati, Ohio, April 20, 1820. Her first book of poems, with her sister Phoebe, was published in 1850. Her poems and prose writings were pictures from life and nature, among which werePictures of Memory,Mulberry Hill,Coming HomeandNobility.She died at her home in New York City, February 12, 1871. This poem is inscribed to theLondon Punch.
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Noglittering chaplet brought from other lands!As in his life, this man, in death, is ours;His own loved prairies o'er his "gaunt, gnarled hands,"Have fitly drawn their sheet of summer flowers!
Noglittering chaplet brought from other lands!
As in his life, this man, in death, is ours;
His own loved prairies o'er his "gaunt, gnarled hands,"
Have fitly drawn their sheet of summer flowers!
What need hath he now of a tardy crown,His name from mocking jest and sneer to saveWhen every plowman turns his furrow downAs soft as though it fell upon his grave?
What need hath he now of a tardy crown,
His name from mocking jest and sneer to save
When every plowman turns his furrow down
As soft as though it fell upon his grave?
He was a man whose like the world againShall never see, to vex with blame or praise;The landmarks that attest his bright, brief reign,Are battles, not the pomps of gala days!
He was a man whose like the world again
Shall never see, to vex with blame or praise;
The landmarks that attest his bright, brief reign,
Are battles, not the pomps of gala days!
The grandest leader of the grandest warThat ever time in history gave aplace,—What were the tinsel flattery of a starTo such a breast! or what a ribbon's grace!
The grandest leader of the grandest war
That ever time in history gave aplace,—
What were the tinsel flattery of a star
To such a breast! or what a ribbon's grace!
'Tis to th' man, and th' man's honest worth,The Nation's loyalty in tears upsprings;Through him the soil of labor shines henceforth,High o'er the silken broideries of kings.
'Tis to th' man, and th' man's honest worth,
The Nation's loyalty in tears upsprings;
Through him the soil of labor shines henceforth,
High o'er the silken broideries of kings.
The mechanism of eternalforms—The shifts that courtiers put their bodiesthrough—Were alien ways to him: his brawny armsHad other work than posturing to do!
The mechanism of eternalforms—
The shifts that courtiers put their bodiesthrough—
Were alien ways to him: his brawny arms
Had other work than posturing to do!
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PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C., 1865
Rose Terry Cookewas born in West Hartford, Connecticut, February 17, 1827. Graduated at Hartford Female Seminary in 1843. She has written many short stories and a number of books of poems.
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Hundredsthere have been, loftier than their kind,Heroes and victors in the world's great wars:Hundreds, exalted as the eternal stars,By the great heart, or keen and mighty mind;There have been sufferers, maimed and halt and blind,Who bore their woes in such triumphant calmThat God hath crowned them with the martyr's palm;And there were those who fought through fire to findTheir Master's face, and were by fire refined.But who like thee, oh Sire! hath ever stoodSteadfast for truth and right, when lies and wrongRolled their dark waters, turbulent and strong;Who bore reviling, baseness, tears and bloodPoured out like water, till thine own was spent,Then reaped Earth's sole reward—a grave and monument!
Hundredsthere have been, loftier than their kind,
Heroes and victors in the world's great wars:
Hundreds, exalted as the eternal stars,
By the great heart, or keen and mighty mind;
There have been sufferers, maimed and halt and blind,
Who bore their woes in such triumphant calm
That God hath crowned them with the martyr's palm;
And there were those who fought through fire to find
Their Master's face, and were by fire refined.
But who like thee, oh Sire! hath ever stood
Steadfast for truth and right, when lies and wrong
Rolled their dark waters, turbulent and strong;
Who bore reviling, baseness, tears and blood
Poured out like water, till thine own was spent,
Then reaped Earth's sole reward—a grave and monument!
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PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1865
Frederick Lucian Hosmer, born at Framingham, Massachusetts, October 16, 1840. Graduated at Harvard in 1869. Ordained in Unitarian Ministry at Northboro, Massachusetts, in 1869. Author ofThe Way of Life,The Thought of God, in Hymns and Poems.
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Theprairies to the mountains call,The mountains to the sea;From shore to shore a nation keepsHer martyr's memory.
Theprairies to the mountains call,
The mountains to the sea;
From shore to shore a nation keeps
Her martyr's memory.
Though lowly born, the seal of GodWas in that rugged face;Still from the humble Nazareths comeThe Saviours of the race.
Though lowly born, the seal of God
Was in that rugged face;
Still from the humble Nazareths come
The Saviours of the race.
With patient heart and vision clearHe wrought through tryingdays—"Malice toward none, with Charity for all,"Unswerved by blame or praise.
With patient heart and vision clear
He wrought through tryingdays—
"Malice toward none, with Charity for all,"
Unswerved by blame or praise.
And when the morn of peace broke throughThe battle's cloud and din,He hailed with joy the promised land,He might now enter in.
And when the morn of peace broke through
The battle's cloud and din,
He hailed with joy the promised land,
He might now enter in.
He seemed as set by God apart,The winepress trod alone;He stands forth an uncrowned king,A people's heart his throne.
He seemed as set by God apart,
The winepress trod alone;
He stands forth an uncrowned king,
A people's heart his throne.
Land of our loyal love and hope,O Land he died to save,Bow down, renew today thy vowsBeside his martyr grave!
Land of our loyal love and hope,
O Land he died to save,
Bow down, renew today thy vows
Beside his martyr grave!
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Charles Monroe Dickinson, born at Lowville, New York, November 15, 1842. Educated at Fairfield (New York), Seminary and Lowville Academy. Admitted to the bar in 1865; practiced law in the State of Pennsylvania, at Binghamton, New York, and in New York City 1865-77, when he abandoned the profession because of broken health. Editor and proprietor ofBinghamton Republican,1878-1911. In 1892, upon his suggestion and initiative the various news organizations were combined into the present Associated Press. Presidential elector, 1896; United States Consul-General to Turkey, 1897-1906; Diplomatic agent to Bulgaria, 1901-1903. While acting in this capacity the American missionary, Ellen M. Stone, was carried off by brigands, but released through his settlement and efforts. Member board to draft regulations for government of American consular service 1906; American Consul-General at-large, 1906-October 1, 1908. Author ofHistory of Dickinson Family,1885;The Children and Other Verses,1889; part of political history of State of New York, 1911.
Ifany one hath doubt or fearThat this is Freedom's chosenclime—That God hath sown and planted hereThe richest harvest field ofTime—Let him take heart, throw off his fears,As he looks back a hundred years.
Ifany one hath doubt or fear
That this is Freedom's chosenclime—
That God hath sown and planted here
The richest harvest field ofTime—
Let him take heart, throw off his fears,
As he looks back a hundred years.
Cities and fields and wealth untold,With equal rights before the law;And, better than all lands andgold—Such as the old world neversaw—Freedom and peace, the right to be,And honor to those who made us free.top
Cities and fields and wealth untold,
With equal rights before the law;
And, better than all lands andgold—
Such as the old world neversaw—
Freedom and peace, the right to be,
And honor to those who made us free.
Our greatness did not happen so,We owe it not to chance or fate;In furnace heat, by blow on blow,Were forged the things that make us great;And men still live who bore that heat,And felt those deadly hammers beat.
Our greatness did not happen so,
We owe it not to chance or fate;
In furnace heat, by blow on blow,
Were forged the things that make us great;
And men still live who bore that heat,
And felt those deadly hammers beat.
Not in the pampered courts of kings,Not in the homes that rich men keep,God calls His Davids with their slings,Or wakes His Samuels from their sleep;But from the homes of toil and needCalls those who serve as well as lead.
Not in the pampered courts of kings,
Not in the homes that rich men keep,
God calls His Davids with their slings,
Or wakes His Samuels from their sleep;
But from the homes of toil and need
Calls those who serve as well as lead.
Such was the hero of our race;Skilled in the school of common things,He felt the sweat on Labor's face,He knew the pinch of want, the stingThe bondman felt, and all the wrongThe weak had suffered from the strong.
Such was the hero of our race;
Skilled in the school of common things,
He felt the sweat on Labor's face,
He knew the pinch of want, the sting
The bondman felt, and all the wrong
The weak had suffered from the strong.
God passed the waiting centuries by,And kept him for our time ofneed—To lead us with his couragehigh—To make our country free indeed;Then, that he be by none surpassed,God crowned him martyr at the last.
God passed the waiting centuries by,
And kept him for our time ofneed—
To lead us with his couragehigh—
To make our country free indeed;
Then, that he be by none surpassed,
God crowned him martyr at the last.
Let speech and pen and song proclaimOur grateful praise this natal morn;Time hath preserved no nobler name,And generations yet unbornShall swell the pride of those who canClaim Lincoln as their countryman.
Let speech and pen and song proclaim
Our grateful praise this natal morn;
Time hath preserved no nobler name,
And generations yet unborn
Shall swell the pride of those who can
Claim Lincoln as their countryman.
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