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O soul obscure, Whose wings life bound, And soft death folded Under the ground.
Wilding lady, Still and true, Who gave us Lincoln And never knew:
To you at last Our praise, our tears, Love and a song Through the nation's years.
Mother of Lincoln, Our tears, our praise; A battle-flag And the victor's bays!
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE RAIL SPLITTER
From the "Footprints of Abraham Lincoln"]
LINCOLN THE LABORER
_From an Horatian Ode by Richard Henry Stoddard_
A laboring man with h.o.r.n.y hands, Who swung the axe, who tilled the lands, Who shrank from nothing new, But did as poor men do.
One of the people. Born to be Their curious epitome, To share, yet rise above, Their s.h.i.+fting hate and love.
Common his mind, it seemed so then, His thoughts the thoughts of other men, Plain were his words, and poor-- But now they will endure.
No hasty fool of stubborn will, But prudent, cautious, still-- Who, since his work was good, Would do it as he could.
No hero, this, of Roman mold-- Nor like our stately sires of old.
Perhaps he was not great-- But he preserved the state.
O, honest face, which all men knew, O, tender heart, but known to few-- O, wonder of the age, Cut off by tragic rage.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE BOY LINCOLN"
By Eastman Johnson]
James Whitcomb Riley was born in Greenfield, Indiana, about 1852. He was engaged in various pursuits until 1875, when he began to contribute verses of poetry to local papers in the Western district which gained wide popularity for him. His published works in dialect and his serious poems have also proved very popular.
A PEACEFUL LIFE
(LINCOLN)
A peaceful life;--just toil and rest-- All his desire;-- To read the books he liked the best Beside the cabin fire.
G.o.d's word and man's;--to peer sometimes Above the page, in smoldering gleams, And catch, like far heroic rhymes, The onmarch of his dreams.
A peaceful life;--to hear the low Of pastured herds, Or woodman's axe that, blow on blow, Fell sweet as rhythmic words.
And yet there stirred within his breast A faithful pulse, that, like a roll Of drums, made high above his rest A tumult in his soul.
A peaceful life!--They hailed him even As One was hailed Whose open palms were nailed toward Heaven When prayers nor aught availed.
And lo, he paid the selfsame price To lull a nation's awful strife And will us, through the sacrifice Of self, his peaceful life.
William Wilberforce Newton, born in Alleghany, Pennsylvania, March, 1836. Was graduated at Franklin and Marshall College in 1853. Studied law, and was admitted to the bar in 1867. He served as Captain and a.s.sistant Adjutant General of U. S. Volunteers in 1861-5; was Editor of the _Philadelphia Press_ and President of the "Press" Publis.h.i.+ng Co., from 1867 till 1878. He is the author of _Vignettes of Travel_ and has been largely engaged in railway building in Mexico.
LEADER OF HIS PEOPLE
Saw you in his boyhood days O'er Kentucky's prairies; Bending to the settler's ways Yon poor youth whom now we praise-- Romance like the fairies?
Hero! Hero! Sent from G.o.d!
Leader of his people.
Saw you in the days of youth By the candle's flaring: Lincoln searching for the truth, Splitting rails to gain, forsooth, Knowledge for the daring?
Hero! Hero! Sent from G.o.d!
Leader of his people.
Saw you in his manhood's prime Like a star resplendent, Him we praise with measured rhyme Waiting for the coming time With a faith transcendent?
Hero! Hero! Sent from G.o.d!
Leader of his people.
Saw you in the hour of strife When fierce war was raging, Him who gave the slaves a life Full and rich with freedom rife, All his powers engaging?
Hero! Hero! Sent from G.o.d!
Leader of his people.
Saw you when the war was done (Such is Lincoln's story) Him whose strength the strife had won Sinking like the setting sun Crowned with human glory?
Hero! Hero! Sent from G.o.d!
Leader of his people.
Saw you in our country's roll Midst her saints and sages, Lincoln's name upon the scroll-- Standing at the topmost goal On the nation's pages?
Hero! Hero! Sent from G.o.d!
Leader of his people.
Hero! Yes! We know thy fame; It will live forever!
Thou to us art still the same; Great the glory of thy name, Great thy strong endeavor!
Hero! Hero! Sent from G.o.d!
Leader of his people.
