Some opulent force of genius, soul, and race, Some deep life-current from far centuries Flowed to his mind and lighted his sad eyes, And gave his name, among great names, high place. Joel BentonAnother Washington. (Lincoln.)
If so mens memories not a monument be, None shalt thou have. Warm hearts, and not cold stone, Must mark thy grave, or thou shalt lie, unknown. Marbles keep not themselves; how then, keep thee? John Vance CheneyThy Monument.
O, Uncommon Commoner! may your name Forever lead like a living flame! Unschooled scholar! how did you learn The wisdom a lifetime may not earn? Unsainted martyr! higher than saint! You were a man with a mans constraint. In the world, of the world was your lot; With it and for it the fight you fought, And never till Time is itself forgot And the heart of man is a pulseless clot Shall the blood flow slow, when we think the thought Of Lincoln! Edmund Vance CookeThe Uncommon Commoner.
That nation has not lived in vain which has given the world Washington and Lincoln, the best great men and the greatest good men whom history can show. * * * You cry out in the words of Bunyan, So Valiant-for-Truth passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side. Henry Cabot LodgeLincoln. Address before the Mass. Legislature, Feb. 12, 1909.
Nature, they say, doth dote, And cannot make a man Save on some worn-out plan Repeating us by rote: For him her Old World moulds aside she threw And, choosing sweet clay from the breast Of the unexhausted West, With stuff untainted shaped a hero new. LowellA Hero New.
When the Norn-mother saw the Whirlwind Hour, Greatening and darkening as it hurried on, She bent the strenuous Heavens and came down To make a man to meet the mortal need. She took the tried clay of the common road Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth, Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy; Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff. It was a stuff to wear for centuries, A man that matched the mountains, and compelled The stars to look our way and honor us. Edwin MarkhamLincoln, The Man of the People.
You lay a wreath on murdered Lincolns bier, You, who with mocking pencil wont to trace, Broad for the self-complacent British sneer, His length of shambling limb, his furrowed face. Tom TaylorBritannia Sympathises with Columbia. In Punch, May 6, 1865. Assigned to Taylor by Shirley Brooks in his Diary, May 10, 1865. See G. S. Layards Life, Letters, and Diaries of Shirley Brooks of Punch.
This dust was once the man, Gentle, plain, just and resolute, under whose cautious hand, Against the foulest crime in history known in any land or age, Was saved the Union of these States. Walt WhitmanMemories of President Lincoln. This Dust Was Once the Man.
O captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done; The ship has weatherd every rack; the prize we sought is won; The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring? But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my captain lies, fallen cold and dead. Walt WhitmanCaptain! My Captain!
The ship is anchord safe and sound, its voyage is closed and done. From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won. Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells; but I with mournful tread Walk the deck my captain lies, fallen cold and dead. Walt WhitmanCaptain! My Captain!