Memorial Addresses on the Life and Character of John Alexander Logan: (a Senator from Illinois), Delivered in the Senate and House of Representatives, February 9 and 16, 1887 with the Funeral Services at Washington, D.C., Friday, December 31, 1886

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U.S. Government Printing Office, 1887 - 220 pages
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Page 170 - The clear conception, outrunning the deductions of logic, the high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right onward to his object — this, this is eloquence; or rather it is something greater and higher than all eloquence, it is action, noble, sublime, godlike action.
Page 10 - I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down ; To husband out life's taper at the close. And keep the flame from wasting by repose. I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, Amidst the swains to show my...
Page 10 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
Page 137 - Thro' either babbling world of high and low ; Whose life was work, whose language rife With rugged maxims hewn from life; Who never spoke against a foe...
Page 130 - There is no death ! What seems so is transition : This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.
Page 203 - What can aid more to assure this result than by cherishing tenderly the memory of our heroic dead, who made their breasts a barricade between our...
Page 154 - Dost thou look back on what hath been, As some divinely gifted man, Whose life in low estate began And on a simple village green ; Who breaks his birth's invidious bar, And grasps the skirts of happy chance, And breasts the blows of circumstance, And grapples with his evil star...
Page 149 - Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
Page 175 - Ireland flowed in the same stream and drenched the same field. When the chill morning dawned, their dead lay cold and stark together ; in the same deep pit their bodies were deposited ; the green corn of spring is ndw breaking from their commingled dust ; the dew falls from heaven upon their union in the grave.
Page 203 - The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo; No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On fame's eternal camping ground Their silent tents are spread, And glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead.

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