Poetical Tributes to the Memory of Abraham LincolnJ.B. Lippincott & Company, 1865 - 294 pages |
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Common terms and phrases
anguish ANONYMOUS assassin's banner bear bier bitter bleeding blood blow brave breast breath bright broken fetters brow chief clouds country's crime crown dark death deed Diomed dirge dust earth evermore eyes fame Father fell flag foes freedom's funeral pall glad song gloom glorious glory God's gone grave grief Hambletonian hand hath head heaven hero honored hour hushed JACK MALON justice land light lips live Lord loved martyr mercy mighty millions murder nation weeps nation's heart neath night noble noblest o'er patriot peace people's praise prayer promised land rest RICHARD STORRS WILLIS shed SHERMAN SMITH shining shore Sic Semper Tyrannis slain sleep solemn song sorrow soul spirit stand stars stars and stripes stricken strife sweet tears tempest thee thine thou hast throne Thy name to-day toil toll tomb traitors treason trust victory voice wail wave wrath
Popular passages
Page 231 - Sceptre and Crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath When they, pale captives, creep to death.
Page 13 - OH, slow to smite and swift to spare, Gentle and merciful and just ! Who, in the fear of God, didst bear The sword of power, a nation's trust ! In sorrow by thy bier we stand, Amid the awe that hushes all, And speak the anguish of a land That shook with horror at thy fall. Thy task is done ; the bond are free : We bear thee to an honoured grave, Whose proudest monument shall be The broken fetters of the slave.
Page 50 - Lincoln's bier ! You, who with mocking pencil wont to trace, Broad for the self-complacent British sneer, His length of shambling limb, his furrowed face, His gaunt, gnarled hands, his unkempt, bristling hair, His garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease, His lack of all we prize as debonair, Of power or will to shine, of art to please ! You, whose smart pen backed up the pencil's laugh.
Page 51 - Who trusts the strength will with the burden grow. That God makes instruments to work His will, If but that will we can arrive to know, Nor tamper with the weights of good and ill, So he went forth to battle, on the side That he felt clear was Liberty's and Right's, As in his peasant boyhood he had plied His warfare with rude Nature's thwarting mights, — The uncleared forest, the unbroken soil, The iron bark that turns the lumberer's axe.
Page 52 - Rough culture, but such trees large fruit may bear, If but their stocks be of right girth and grain. So he grew up, a destined work to do, And lived to do it: four long-suffering years...
Page 231 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill : But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath When they, pale captives,...
Page 50 - You, whose smart pen backed up the pencil's laugh, Judging each step as though the way were plain, Reckless, so it could point its paragraph Of chief's perplexity, or people's pain : Beside this corpse, that bears for winding-sheet The Stars and Stripes he lived to rear anew, Between the mourners at his head and feet, Say, scurrile jester, is there room for you...
Page 52 - Hi-fate, ill-feeling, ill-report, lived through, And then he heard the hisses change to cheers, The taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise. And took both with the same unwavering mood; Till, as he came on light, from darkling days...
Page 51 - Yes: he had lived to shame me from my sneer, To lame my pencil, and confute my pen; To make me own this hind of princes peer, This rail-splitter a true-born king of men.
Page 304 - CM •"TO Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, The God Whom we adore, Be glory, as it was, is now, And shall be evermore.