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 THE POET 
 
 Poems by ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 Compiled by 
 
 The Poet Hunter 
 
 P. H. DODGE 
 7324 South Shore Drive, 
 Chicago'' III. 
 
LINCOLN ROOM 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 MEMORIAL 
 
 the Class of 1901 
 
 founded by 
 
 HARLAN HOYT HORNER 
 
 and 
 
 HENRIETTA CALHOUN HORNER 
 
f 
 
 LINCOLN THE POET 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 MY ANGEL MOTHER 
 THE GOLDEN RULE CHURCH OF LINCOLN 
 
 THE DESERTED VILLAGE 
 
 THE MAD-MAN 
 
 THE BEAR HUNT 
 
 GETTYSBURG 
 
 LINCOLN'S PRAYER BEFORE GETTYSBURG 
 
 A HOUSE DIVIDED 
 
 — PERPETUAL UNION — 
 
 WE ARE NOT ENEMIES BUT FRIENDS 
 
 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE 
 
 LINCOLN'S FAREWELL AT SPRINGFIELD 
 
 THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE 
 
 AMERICAN FREEDOM 
 
 THE DANGERS OF DICTATORSHIP 
 
 PATRIOTISM, PASSION AND REASON 
 
 TEMPERANCE AND PROHIBITION 
 
 LABOR AND CAPITAL 
 
 THE COMMON PEOPLE 
 
 HONOR THE SOLDIERS 
 
 AND BLESS THE WOMEN OF AMERICA 
 
 ANN RUTLEDGE 
 
 THE SABBATH 
 
 MOTHER BIXBY 
 
 First Edition \"? ^fc<to~ 
 Limited to 100 Copies, No*?....?T L** 1 *^ 
 
 Copyright 1940, by Paul Hunter Dodge 
 7324 South Shore Drive, Chicago 
 
LINCOLN THE POET 
 
 PAUL HUNTER 
 
 He had a poet's love of rhyme and rythm : 
 He loved the melodies of earth and heaven! 
 He had a poet's sadness and dejection, 
 He had a poet's faults and imperfection, 
 He only lacked our Longfellow's perfection; 
 
 He had a Poet's love of Man and Nature, 
 He had a poet's ear, a prophet's stature ! 
 He had a sage's sense, a Man's emotion, 
 He had a Father's love and fond devotion, 
 A measured sense of justice, — deep as ocean; 
 
 His genius rivaled Shakespeare and proud Milton: 
 He sang the shores that liberty was built on! 
 His winged horse may not have soared Parnassus, 
 He trod the earth at Gettysburg, — Manassas, — 
 His hoof-beats felt red soil and sacred ashes! 
 
 The Savior of our Country was a Poet : 
 He had a Poet's Pen, — the World shall know it ! 
 He had a poet's heart and aspiration, 
 He had a poet's fire and inspiration, 
 He had a poet's theme, — a bleeding nation. 
 
LINCOLN'S FAVORITE POEM 
 AND POETICAL ASPIRATION 
 
 Lincoln loved the great poets, Shakespeare, Byron 
 and Burns, and memorized many of their famous pas- 
 sages. 
 
 But his favorite poem was Knox's humble elegy, 
 which was learned by heart, and often recited to 
 friends. Lincoln did not know the author, William 
 Knox, who wrote nearly as well as Thomas Gray. 
 
 Oh why should the spirit of mortal be proud? 
 Like a swift-fleeting- meteor, a fast flying cloud, 
 A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, 
 Man passes from life to his rest in the grave. 
 
 Of this great elegy, Lincoln wrote to his friend, 
 William Johnson: 
 
 "I would give all I am worth, and go in debt, 
 
 to be able to write so fine a piece as I think 
 
 this is." 
 
 — A. Lincoln. 
 
LINCOLN'S MOTHER 
 
 Nancy Hanks Lincoln died in 1818, when Abraham 
 was in his tenth year. 
 
 Long afterward, Lincoln said to a friend, with tears 
 in, his eyes — as quoted by J. G. Holland: 
 
 "All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel 
 mother, — Blessings on her memory." 
 
 The first lines of this poem are Lincoln's, and most 
 of its phrases are taken from his reported sayings and 
 speeches. It is more his than mine. 
 
 — Paul Hunter. 
 
 LINCOLN'S CHURCH 
 
 Lincoln's simple faith was quoted as follows, before 
 the Connecticut General Assembly by Henry C. Dem- 
 ing, a lawyer, and close friend of Lincoln: 
 
 "When any church will inscribe above its altar, as 
 its sole qualification for membership the Savior's 
 condensed statement of the substance rf bith )"™ r an 1 
 Gospel, — 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all 
 thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, 
 and thy neighbor as thyself!' — that church will I j in 
 with all my heart and all my soul.' 7 
 
 The Golden Rule Church of America, founded upon 
 Lincoln's creed and Jefferson's abridged Gospel, known 
 as "The Morals and Teachings of Jesus," was organ- 
 ized in 1930, at Louisville and Indianapolis, and may 
 be the beginning of a very popular national church. 
 
 LIBRARY -— ^Jm 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLlNOt* 
 
MY ANGEL MOTHER 
 
 ^ :|: t- ********** ** * * ^ 
 
 All that I am, all that I hope to be, 
 
 I owe my angel mother, 
 My hand she guided as I learned to write, 
 My feet she guided in the ways of right, 
 My hopes she cherished, as a flame of light, — 
 But now I wander like a child at night, — 
 God bless her soul, God bless her memory, 
 
 Nancy, my angel mother. 
 
 Her weary hands are crumbled into dust, 
 But they shall live in leaves of forest trees; 
 Her tender heart may make sweet flowers I trust, 
 Heaven bless her soul, Earth bless her memories, 
 
 Nancy, my angel mother. 
 
 Can Earth send such another! 
 
THE GOLDEN RULE CHURCH OF LINCOLN 
 
 There is a Golden Rule of Love to God, 
 And love and kindness to oar fellowmen, 
 Engraved by Jesus, on the Rock of Ages, 
 
 When any Church inscribes above its altar, 
 As its sole faith and creed for fellowship, 
 The Savior's statement of the law and gospel, 
 In simple words of faith and charity 
 And kindness: <f Thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
 With all thy heart, and all thy soul and mind, 
 And Thou shalt love thy Neighbor as thyself," — 
 
 That Church will I then join, 
 
 With all my heart and soul! 
 
LINCOLN'S RHYMED POEMS 
 
 In a letter to William Johnson, referring to his 
 favorite elegy, Lincoln also wrote: "In the fall of 
 1844, thinking I might aid Mr. Clay, in Indiana, I 
 went into the neighborhood in that state in which I 
 was raised, where my mother and only sister were 
 buried, and from which I had been absent about fifteen 
 years. 
 
 "That part of the country is, within itself, as un- 
 poetical as any spot of the earth; but still, seeing it 
 and its objects and inhabitants aroused feelings in me 
 which were certainly poetry; though whether my ex- 
 pression of those feelings is poetry is quite another 
 question. When I got to writing, the change of sub- 
 ject divided the thing into four little divisions or can- 
 tos, the first only of which I send you now, and may 
 send the others hereafter." 
 
Manuscripts of "The Deserted Village" 
 and "The Madman" 
 
 The manuscript of "The Deserted Village" and "The 
 Madman", in Abraham Lincoln's own handwriting was 
 recently presented to the Library of Congress by Mary 
 Lincoln Isham of Washington. It shows the original 
 text, and his corrections and revision. In most in- 
 stances the original text is preferable and retained. 
 Copies of the original manuscript, with corrections, 
 are available, through courtesy of Dr. Louis A. War- 
 ren, Editor of Lincoln Lore, Lincoln National Life 
 Foundation, Fort Wayne, Indiana. 
 
 Lincoln's "Deserted Village" compares well with 
 Goldsmith's longer poem on the same subject. The 
 second and last verses are nearly perfect poetry, com- 
 parable even to Gray's Elegy. "The Madman" con- 
 tains three verses of the first order, — the eighth, tenth 
 and last; and the whole poem compares favorably with 
 Goldsmith's "Mad-Dog." 
 
 LINCOLN'S LETTER ON "THE MADMAN" 
 
 "Friend Johnson: You remember when I wrote you 
 from Tremont last spring, sending you a little canto 
 of what I called poetry, I promised to bore you with 
 another sometime. I now fulfill the promise.. 
 
 The subject of the present one is an insane man; 
 his name is Matthew Gentry. He is three years older 
 than I, and when we were bovs we went to school to- 
 gether. He was rather a bright lad, and the son of 
 the rich man of a very poor neighborhood. 
 
 At the age of nineteen he unaccountably became 
 furiously mad, from which condition he gradually set- 
 tled down into harmless insanity. When, as I told 
 you in my other letter, I visited my old home in the 
 fall of 1844, I found him still lingering in this wretch- 
 ed condition. In my poetizing mood, I could not for- 
 get the impression his case made upon me. 
 
 "I I should ever send you another, the subject will 
 be a "Bear Hunt." 
 
 Yours as ever, 
 
 A. Lincoln." 
 
 LINCOLN'S BEAR HUNT 
 AND SCOTT'S CHASE 
 
 A short time later, Lincoln sent Johnson twenty-two 
 verses, which he called "The Bear Hunt", mixing back- 
 woods slang with fine phrases of standard English 
 poets. Lincoln had undoubtedlv read Scott's Lady of 
 the Lake, which begins with the classic chase of the 
 stag. Lincoln's diction and treatment of his subject 
 is just as appropriate, and fully as interesting and ex- 
 citing, if not as elegant as Scott's. 
 
THE DESERTED VILLAGE 
 Abraham Lincoln, 1844 
 
 My childhood home I see again 
 
 And gladden with the view, 
 And still as memories crowd my brain 
 
 There's sadness in it too. 
 
 O Memory, thou midway world 
 
 Twixt earth and paradise, 
 Where loved ones lost and things decayed 
 
 In dreamy shadows rise. 
 
 And freed from all things gross and vile, 
 Seems hallowed, pure and bright, 
 
 Like scenes of some enchanted isle, 
 All bathed in liquid light. 
 
 As distant mountains please the eye 
 When twilight chases day, — 
 
 As bugle notes, that passing by, 
 In distance die away; 
 
 As leaving some grand waterfall, 
 
 We lingering list its roar, — 
 So memory will hallow all 
 
 Weve known, but know no more. 
 
Now twenty years have passed away 
 
 Since here I bade farewell 
 To woods and fields and scenes of play 
 
 And schoolmates loved so well. 
 
 Where many were, how few remain 
 
 Of old familiar things, 
 But seeing these, to mind again 
 
 The lost and absent brings, 
 
 I hear the lone survivors tell 
 
 How naught from death could save, 
 Till every sound seems like a knell, 
 
 And every spot a grave, 
 
 I range the fields with pensive tread, 
 And pace the hollow rooms, 
 
 And feel, companion of the dead, 
 Ym living in their tombs! 
 
THE MAD-MAN 
 Abraham Lincoln, 1844 
 
 Here is an object of wore dread 
 
 Than aught the grave contains, — 
 
 A human form with reason fled, 
 While wretched life remains. 
 
 Poor Matthew, once of genius bright, 
 
 A fortune-favored child, 
 Now locked for aye in mental night, 
 
 A haggard madman wild. 
 
 Poor Matthew, I have ne'er forgot 
 When first with maddened will 
 
 Yourself you maimed, your father fought, 
 Your mother strove to kill. 
 
 And terror spread and neighbors ran 
 Your dangrous strength to bind, 
 
 And soon, a howling crazy man, 
 Your limbs were fast confined. 
 
 How then you writhed and shrieked aloud 
 
 Your bones and sinews bared, 
 And fiendish on the gaping crowd 
 
 With burning eye-balls glared, 
 
 And begged and swore, and wept and prayed 
 
 With maniac laughter joined; 
 How painful were these signs displayed 
 
 By pangs that kill the mind. 
 
And when at length, tho drear and long, 
 Time soothed your fiercer woes, 
 
 How plaintively your mournful song 
 Upon the still night rose, 
 
 Yve heard it oft as if I dreamed, 
 
 Far distant, sweet and lone, 
 The funeral dirge it ever seemed 
 
 Of reason dead and gone. 
 
 To drink its strains Yve stole away, 
 
 All silently and still, 
 Ere yet the rising god of day 
 
 Had streaked the eastern hill. 
 
 Air held its breath; trees with the spell 
 Seemed sorrowing angels round; 
 
 Their swelling tears in dewdrops felt 
 Upon the listening ground. 
 
 But this is past, and naught remains 
 That raised you oer the brute; 
 
 Your maddening shrieks and soothing strains, 
 Are like, forever mute. 
 
 Now fare the well! More thou the cause 
 Than subject now of woe; 
 All mental pangs by time's kind laws, 
 Hast lost the power to know, 
 
 O death! Thou awe-inspiring prince 
 That keeps t the world in fear, 
 
 Why dost thou tear more blest ones hence, 
 And leave him lingering here! 
 
THE BEAR HUNT 
 Abraham Lincoln, 1844 
 
 A wild bear chase didst never see? 
 
 Then hast thou lived in vain — 
 Thy richest bump of glorious glee 
 
 Lies desert in thy brain. 
 
 When first my father settled here, 
 
 'Twas then the frontier line; 
 The panther's scream filled night with fear 
 
 And bears preyed on the swine. 
 
 But woe for bruin s short-lived fun 
 
 When rose the squealing cry; 
 Now man and horse, with dog and gun 
 
 For vengeance at him fly. 
 
 A sound of danger strikes his ear; 
 
 He gives the breeze a snuff; 
 Away he bounds, with little fear, 
 
 And seeks the tangled rough. 
 
 On press his foes, and reach the ground 
 Where s left his half-munched meal; 
 
 The dogs, in circles, scent around 
 And find his fresh made trail. 
 
With instant cry, away they dash, 
 
 And wen as fast pursue; 
 O'er logs they leap, through water splash 
 
 And shout the brisk halloo. 
 
 Now to elude the eager pack 
 
 Bear shuns the open ground, 
 Through matted vines he shapes his track, 
 
 And runs it, round and round. 
 
 The tall, fleet cur, with deep-mouthed voice 
 
 Now speeds him, as the wind; 
 While half-grown pup, and short-legged fice 
 
 Are yelping far behind. 
 
 And fresh recruits are dropping in 
 
 To join the merry corps; 
 With yelp and yell, a mingled din — 
 
 The woods are in a roar — 
 
 And round, and round the chase now goes, 
 
 The world's alive with fun; 
 Nick Carter's horse his rider throws, 
 
 And Mose Hills drops his gun. 
 
 Now, sorely pressed, bear glances back, 
 
 And lolls his tired tongue, 
 When as, to force him from his track 
 
 An ambush on him sprung. 
 
Across the glade he sweeps for flight, 
 
 And fully is in view — 
 The dog>s, new fired by the sight 
 
 Their cry and speed renew. 
 
 The foremost ones now reach his rear; 
 
 He turns, they dash away, 
 And circling now the wrathful bear 
 
 They have him full at bay. 
 
 At top of speed the horsemen come, 
 
 All screaming in a row — 
 'WhoopV 'Take him, TigerV 'Seize him, DrumV 
 
 Bang — bang! the rifles go! 
 
 And furious now, the dogs he tears, 
 
 And crushes in his ire — 
 Wheels right and left, and upward rears, 
 
 With eyes of burning fire. 
 
 But leaden death is at his heart — 
 
 Vain all the strength he plies, 
 And, spouting blood from ever % y part, 
 
 He reels, and sinks, and dies! 
 
 And now a dinsome clamor rose, — 
 ( But who should have his skin?' 
 
 Who first draws blood, each hunter knows 
 This prize must always win. 
 
But/ who did this, and how to trace 
 What's true from what's a lie, — 
 
 hike lawijets in a murder case 
 They stoutly argufy. 
 
 Aforesaid Rce, of blustering mood, 
 
 Behind, and quite forgot, 
 Just now emerges from the wood 
 
 Arrives upon the spot, 
 
 With grinning teeth, and up- turned hair 
 Brim full of spunk and wrath, 
 
 He growls, and siezes on dead bear 
 And shakes for life and death — 
 
 And swells, as if his skin would tear, 
 And growls, and shakes again, 
 
 And swears, as plain as dog can swear 
 That he has won the skin! 
 
 Conceited whelp! we laugh at thee, 
 
 Nor mind that not a few 
 Of pompous, two-legged dogs there be 
 
 Conceited quite as you. 
 
Concerning publication of his three rhymed poems, 
 written in 1844, Lincoln also wrote Johnson: 
 
 "I am not at all displeased with your proposal to 
 publish the poetry, or doggerel, or whatever else it 
 may be called, which I sent you. I consent that it 
 may be done. Whether the prefatory remarks in my 
 letter shall be published with the verses, I leave en- 
 tirely to your discretion; but let names be suppressed 
 by all means." 
 
 — A. Lincoln, 
 
 LINCOLN'S POETIC ADDRESSES 
 
 Although Lincoln probably wrote nothing in rhymed 
 verse after 1846, he developed in his speeches a rhythm- 
 ical and lofty style, rich in metaphor, which is poetical 
 in the truest sense of that term. His utterances and 
 writings possess the true classic quality of Greek 
 literature. Lincoln had a profound sense of the fit- 
 ness of things, born of solitary reflection and com- 
 munion with nature, a keen analysis of human thought 
 and feeling, that could give poetic justice to any noble 
 theme. 
 
THE GETTYSBURG ADDRESS 
 A Shakespearian Poem 
 
 The first three lines of the Gettysburg address have 
 the same lofty rhythm and majesty of Hamlet's soli- 
 loquy, of Milton's Paradise Lost, or Bryant's Than- 
 otopsis. 
 
 All lovers of Shakespeare will note that Lincoln, 
 consciously or unconsciously, adopts exactly the same 
 deliberative, reflective meter, for his soliloquoy on the 
 suicide of his nation, as Shakespeare used for Hamlet's 
 soliloquy on the suicide of the Prince of Denmark, — 
 both feminine, elastic, pentameter: 
 
 "To be or not to be, that is the question, 
 Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 
 The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 
 Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
 And by opposing, end them." 
 Compare the identical meter of Lincoln., the Poet: 
 "Four score and seven years ago our fathers 
 Brought forth upon this continent a new nation, 
 Conceived in liberty and dedicated" — 
 And then Lincoln the lawyer uses a lawyer's word, 
 "proposition", or thing to be proved, 
 concerning an equality that could not be proved, 
 where the poet would speak of an "ideal." 
 So let Lincoln's worshipers and critics remember 
 he was a poet at heart, but a lawyer in diction, and 
 this editor's revision strives to get the heart-beats 
 of Lincoln the Poet. 
 
 — Paul Hunter. 
 
The Dedication of 
 GETTYSBURG 
 
 A New Birth of Freedom 
 A Poem by A. Lincoln, edited by Paul Hunter 
 
 Four score and seven years ago, our fathers 
 Brought forth upon this continent a new nation, 
 Conceived in liberty and dedicated 
 To the ideal that all are free and equal. 
 
 But now we are engaged in civil war, 
 Testing the proposition, whether that nation, 
 Or any nation so conceived or dedicated, 
 Can long endure. Here we are met 
 Upon that wars most costly battlefield. 
 
 We come to dedicate a portion of that field 
 As a memorial and final resting place 
 To those who here gave up their willing lives, 
 That our beloved nation might still live. 
 
 It is a fitting act that we do this. 
 
 But in true words, we cannot dedicate, 
 
 We cannot consecrate this hallowed ground. 
 
 The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here 
 
 Have consecrated it far and above 
 
 Our humble power to add or to detract. 
 
The world will little note nor long remember 
 What we have said upon this sacred field, 
 But never can forget what they did here. 
 
 It is for us, the living, to be dedicated 
 
 To the unfinished work which they who fought here 
 
 Have thus so nobly and so well advanced. 
 
 It is for us to here be dedicated 
 
 To that great task remaining still before us; 
 
 That from these honored dead we take increased 
 Devotion to the cause for which they gave 
 The last full measure of their life's devotion; 
 
 That we should here highly resolve, these dead 
 Shall not have died in vain; and that this Nation, 
 Under God's hand, shall have another birth 
 Of freedom; and that this our government 
 Of all the people, by the people, for the people, 
 Shall live, — and never perish from the earth! 
 
LINCOLN'S PRAYER BEFORE GETTYSBURG 
 
 Unless Great God shall be with me and aid me, 
 I know that I must fail; but if the same 
 Omniscient and almighty arm of God 
 Shall guide me and support me, then I know 
 I shall not fail, and our cause shall succeed. 
 
 Upon my knees, I prayed Almighty God 
 For victory at Gettysburg; I felt 
 This was His country, and this war His war; 
 We could not stand another Fredericksburg 
 Or Chancellor sville. I made a solemn vow 
 Before my Maker, that if He would stand 
 Beside our boys at Gettysburg, that I 
 Would stand by Him. He did; and so I will! 
 And after this I felt that God Almighty 
 Had taken the whole thing into His hands. 
 
A HOUSE DIVIDED 
 Springfield, June, 1858 
 
 A house divided thus against itself 
 Cannot long stand. This Government 
 Of ours cannot endure, half slave, half free. 
 
 But I do not expect this noble Union 
 To be dissolved; and I do not expect 
 The house to fall; but this I do expect 
 That it will cease to be divided long. 
 
 It will become all one thing, or the other. 
 
 Either opponents against slavery 
 
 Will now arrest its further spread 
 
 And give just confidence in its extinction, 
 
 Or its own abvocates will push it forward, 
 
 Till it is lawful in all of the states, 
 
 In old and new, in North as well as South. 
 
— PERPETUAL UNION — 
 
 WE ARE NOT ENEMIES BUT FRIENDS 
 
 From the First Inaugural, March, 1861 
 
 Under the universal Law of Nations, 
 Under our Constitution and our Laws, 
 The Union of these States was made 
 And is perpetual. Such perpetuity 
 Must be implied, if not by words expressed 
 As the first fundamental law of nations. 
 No government in all the world has ever 
 Provided in the law of its creation 
 For its extinction, its own termination. 
 
 The Union will endure, secure forever, 
 
 If we but execute express provisions 
 
 Of our first law, the National Constitution. 
 
 Speaking of lands, we cannot separate. 
 
 We cannot move our valleys or our mountains; 
 
 We cannot separate adjoining sections, 
 
 Nor build a wall impassable between them. 
 
 Husband and wife may be divorced and go 
 
 Beyond the reach and presence of each other. 
 
 But parts of this one country cannot do this. 
 
 They always must remain here, face to face, 
 
 And intercourse, as friends or enemies, 
 
 Must still continue. Is it possible then, 
 
 To make that intercourse more advantageous, 
 
 Or satisfactory, after a war. 
 
 Can aliens make treaties, or make trade, 
 
 As well as friends and neighbors in one nation? 
 
Suppose you go to war, you cannot fight 
 Forever, When you cease, after great loss 
 On both sides, and no gain on either, 
 The same old questions as to terms of trade 
 And intercourse are all again upon you. 
 
 In your hands, not in mine, my countrymen, 
 Is the momentous issue of civil war. 
 The Government will not assail you, no! 
 You have no conflict but as the aggressors. 
 You have no oath, youve registered in heaven 
 To ruthlessly destroy the government; 
 But I have sworn a firm and solemn oath, — 
 One to preserve, protect, and to defend it! 
 
 Now I am loath to close. We are not enemies, 
 
 But friends; we must not be as enemies. 
 
 Though passion may have strained, it must not break 
 
 The bonds of our affection. Mystic chords 
 
 Of memory, from every battle-field 
 
 And patriot grave, to every living heart 
 
 And hearthstone, over all this broad free land, 
 
 Will join the swelling chorus of the Union, 
 
 When they again are touched, as they will be 
 
 By fairer angels of our better nature. 
 
WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE 
 Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address, March, 1865 
 
 Four years ago, upon this same occasion, 
 Our thoughts and fears foreboded civil war; 
 All dreaded it, and all sought to avert it. 
 
 Then were our words devoted altogether 
 Toward saving of the Union without war. 
 But even then the agents of secession 
 Were in our capitol, seeking disunion, 
 Plotting without war to divide the nation. 
 
 Both parties depricated civil war; 
 But rather than to let the nation live 
 One party would make war; reluctantly 
 The North accepted war, rather than let 
 The nation perish. And so war came. 
 
 The magnitude and long duration which 
 The war attained, neither anticipated. 
 Each looked for easy triumph and results 
 Less fundamental and astounding. 
 
 Fondly we hope, and fervently we pray— 
 This mighty scourge of war may pass away. 
 Yet, if God wills, may it continue till 
 All the piled wealth of bondsmens hundred years 
 Of unrequited toil shall be sunk down, — 
 Till every drop of blood drawn by the lash 
 Shall be paid by another with the sword. 
 
LINCOLN'S FAREWELL AT SPRINGFIELD 
 February 11, 1861 
 
 Good Friends: 
 
 No one who has not said a like farewell 
 
 Can understand my feelings at this hoar, 
 
 Nor the oppressive sadness of this parting. 
 
 More than a quarter century, Yve lived among you, 
 
 Receiving every kindness at your hands. 
 
 Here I have lived among you from my youth, 
 Till now I am an old man, somewhat weary. 
 Here were assumed the most sacred ties of earth. 
 My children here were born; one here lies buried. 
 To you, dear friends, I owe all that I have, 
 All that I am. All the strange checkered past 
 Now crowds upon my mind. Today I leave you. 
 
 I must assume a task more difficult 
 
 Than that which once devolved on Washington. 
 
 Unless the Great God who inspired him then, 
 
 Shall be with and inspire me, I must fail; 
 
 But if the same Omniscient Mind shall guide me, 
 
 The same Almighty Arm of God support me, 
 
 Which once directed and protected him, 
 
 I shall not fail, — / know I shall succeed. 
 
 Let us all pray that our forefather's God 
 
 Shall not forsake us now. To his safe watch 
 
 Let me commend you all. Likewise permit me, 
 
 With equal faith and true sincerity, 
 
 To ask that you will too invoke His wisdom 
 
 And guidance for me. With these words I leave you, 
 
 How long I know not. So, friends, one and all, 
 
 \ bid you an affectionate farewell. 
 
THE FAREWELL ADDRESS 
 
 The richly poetical quality of Lincoln's Farewell ad- 
 dress, its sublime sincerity and devout humility must 
 be apparent to every one. 
 
 When he wrote the Gettysburg and Farewell Ad- 
 dresses, Lincoln was plainly in a highly exalted and 
 poetical mood, for the language used clearly reflects 
 inspiration and exaltation. The frequent metrical 
 forms in his prose highly contributes to its poetical 
 quality. Its chief poetical charm of course, lies in 
 the deep poetical feeling back of both form and words, 
 the result of which is a poetical quality in his expres- 
 sion. 
 
 PERRY'S COMMENT 
 
 Many of Lincoln's addresses, as said by Professor 
 James Raymond Perry, of Chicago, are surcharged 
 with poetry. Ever and again, the careful observer will 
 discover whole lines, perhaps a succession of lines, in 
 the iambic pentameter form, like the blank verse of 
 Shakespeare, which Lincoln read and re-read, and 
 often memorized. (North American Review, February, 
 1911, p. 213). 
 
INDEPENDENCE — FREEDOM 
 — PATRIOTISM 
 
 Whenever Lincoln was deeply moved his thoug-hts 
 seem to have shaped themselves naturally into poetry 
 — the deeper his emotions, the more poetical their ex- 
 pression. 
 
THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE 
 
 Address at Independence Hall 
 
 With deep emotion, here I find myself, 
 Standing where stood the fathers of our country, 
 The wisdom, patriotism, and beloved devotion 
 To principle and to justice, from which sprang 
 The institutions under which we live. 
 
 I never had, politically, a feeling 
 That did not spring out of the sentiments 
 Embodied in this oath of Independence. 
 And often have I pondered oer the dangers 
 Incurred by those brave men assembled here 
 To frame and to adopt this Declaration. 
 
 And I have pondered o'er the toils endured 
 
 By officers and soldiers of the army, 
 
 Who fought for and achieved that independence. 
 
 And often have I asked myself what cause, 
 
 What noble principle or great ideal 
 
 Kept this confederacy so long together. 
 
It could not be merely the separation 
 Of colonies weaned from the motherland; 
 But that sweet sentiment of Liberty, 
 Found in the Declaration of Independence, 
 Which gave the hope of Freedom not alone 
 To people of this country, but held forth 
 The olive branch to all the world, forever. 
 
 This document it was, that gave the promise 
 That in due time, the burden would be lifted 
 From shoulders of all men, the shackles broken, 
 And all should have an equal chance to live. 
 This is the sentiment embodied in 
 The Declaration of our Independence. 
 
 And now, my friends, what think you? Can this 
 
 Country 
 Be saved upon this basis? If it can, 
 I, for myself, will be the happiest man 
 In all the world, if I can help to save it. 
 
 If it cannot be saved, with that fair principle, 
 It will be truly awful. If this country 
 Cannot be saved, with freedom and equality, 
 Without surrendering that principle, — 
 / was about to say, Yd rather die, 
 Assassinated on this sacred spot. 
 
AMERICAN FREEDOM 
 
 The Perpetuity of our Free Institutions 
 
 Lincoln's Speech at Springfield, January, 1837 
 
 In the great journal of things happening 
 Beneath the sun, we free Americans 
 Now find ourselves in peaceful ownership 
 Of this, the fairest portion of the earth, 
 First in fertility and favored climate. 
 
 We find ourselves under a government 
 And institutions more essentially 
 Conducing to the ends of liberty, 
 Both civil and religious, more benign, 
 Than any of which history can tell us. 
 
 We find ourselves legal inheritors 
 Of these our fundamental blessings. 
 We toiled not to acquire or to establish 
 These cherished rights; they are a legacy 
 Bequeathed to us by a once hardy, brave, 
 And patriotic race of ancestors. 
 
 Theirs was the task, and nobly they performed it, 
 
 To win themselves and us this goodly land, 
 
 And to uprear upon its hills and valleys 
 
 An edifice of liberty and justice. 
 
 Our task is to transmit them unprofaned 
 
 By foot of an intruder, undecayed 
 
 By lapse of time, untorn by usurpation, 
 
 To future generations of our people. 
 
How then shall we perform this task, and show 
 
 Our fathers gratitude, ourselves plain justice, 
 
 And our posterity, our duty done? 
 
 And where shall we expect approach of danger? 
 
 Shall we expect some trans- Atlantic giant, 
 
 Some military power to cross the ocean 
 
 And crush our freedom at a single blow? 
 
 Never I Not all the armies of all Europe, 
 
 Asia and Africa combined, with all 
 
 The treasures of the earth, — our own excepted,— 
 
 Within their fulsome military chest, 
 
 And with a Bonaparte for a commander, — 
 
 Could take one drink, by force, from the Ohio, 
 
 Or make a black track upon our blue ridge, — 
 
 Even if they should try a thousand years! 
 
 At what point, then, is this approach of danger 
 To be expected? I must answer thus, — 
 If ever it shall reach us, it must spring 
 Here, up amongst us! Never from abroad! 
 If such destruction be our lot, ourselves 
 Must be its author and its finisher. 
 As a great nation of free men, we live 
 Throughout all time, or die by suicide! 
 
THE DANGERS OF DICTATORSHIP 
 Lincoln's Speech at Springfield, January, 1837 
 
 There are in this land many great good men, 
 
 Well qualified for any task of state, 
 
 Whose fair ambition would aspire to nothing 
 
 Beyond a seat in Congress, or perhaps 
 
 A governor's, or presidential chair; 
 
 But such belong not to the family 
 
 Of the wild lion, or the eagle's tribe! 
 
 What! Think you that these honored public places 
 
 Would satisfy an Alexander's pride, 
 
 A Caesar's or Napoleon's ambition? 
 
 No never! Towering genius still disdains 
 
 A beaten path, but seeks the unexplored. 
 
 It scorns to tread the footpaths of another; 
 
 It will not serve under a greater chief. 
 
 It thirsts for glory, and burns for distinction; 
 
 And it will have it, whether at expense 
 
 Of freeing slaves, or of enslaving freemen! 
 
PATRIOTISM, PASSION AND REASON 
 
 Lincoln's Speech at Springfield, January, 1837 
 
 The patriotic fervor which once was, — 
 The powerful influence and inspiring awe 
 Our Revolution had upon the people, — 
 Long helped maintain our noble institutions. 
 But that was passion, rather than sound judgment, 
 
 These histories are gone. They can be read 
 
 No more forever. Once a tower of strength, 
 
 Their walls are leveled, not by an invader, 
 
 But by time's silent sure artillery. 
 
 They were a forest of gigantic oaks, 
 
 But now despoiled of verdure, shorn of foliage, 
 
 They were the pillars of our liberty, 
 
 Crumbled away now; and the temple falls, 
 
 Unless we, as descendants, fill their places 
 
 With pillars hewn from out the solid quarry 
 
 Of sober reason. Passion helps no more. 
 
 Cold, calculating, unimpassioned reason — 
 
 Must furnish all materials for our temple. 
 
 Let those materials be molded well 
 
 Into a general intelligence, 
 
 A sound morality, and reverence 
 
 For our loved constitution and the laws. 
 
 Then shall our country evermore improve, 
 
 And Washington's proud nation, honestly 
 
 Revering his great name, shall not permit 
 
 A hostile foot to pass or desecrate 
 
 His resting place, till the last trump 
 
 Shall blow and waken our loved Washington. 
 
 Upon these pillars, reason, law, and justice, 
 
 Let the proud fabric of our freedom rest, 
 
 As stands the Rock of Ages on its basis; 
 
 And as was said of that one greater institution, 
 
 "The gates of hell shall not prevail against it." 
 
TEMPERANCE AND PROHIBITION 
 
 Teach all men temperance and moderation, 
 
 But let Man have his freedom and his Conscience! 
 
 The cause of temperance can but be injured 
 By prohibition, which is but a form 
 Of harsh intolerance, — intemperance! 
 
 It goes beyond the bounds of law and reason, 
 
 When it attempts to seek a firm control 
 
 Of free mens appetites, by legislation, 
 
 And makes a crime of things that are not crimes. 
 
 Such prohibition strikes a traitor's blow 
 Against the very principle of freedom, 
 Whereon our law and government were founded. 
 
 I always have been found upon the side 
 Of weaker classes, laboring to protect 
 Them from the stronger. Never can I give 
 Consent to such oppressive lawless laws! 
 
 Until my tongue is silenced by cold death, 
 I will forever fight for rights of Man, 
 For tolerance, and freedom for all people! 
 
LABOR AND CAPITAL 
 
 Labor and Laborers are not a class 
 Divorced from Capital, nor are they servants 
 Induced by others owning capital, 
 To work unwillingly alone for hire. 
 The fruit of labor, known as capital, 
 Could not exist without the laborer. 
 
 Capital has its rights, along with labor, 
 Both worthy of protection. Their relation 
 Is mutual, with mutual benefits. 
 But error lies within the false assumption 
 That all the labor of communities 
 Exists in that relation separate. 
 
 In small communities, where both commingle, 
 The great mass of our thrifty rural workers 
 Mingle their labor with their capital; 
 They labor with their hands and many tools 
 And implements, and hire some other hands 
 To labor for them. Theirs is a mixed class, 
 And not a separate, distinct, or yet 
 Divided group of capital and labor. 
 
 Your property is but the fruit of labor. 
 It is desirable; it is a positive good; 
 And it is capital, and every owner 
 Though he may labor, is a capitalist. 
 
 That some should be rich, only shows that others 
 May too become rich. Riches is a just 
 Encouragement to enterprise and labor. 
 Let all then work together, and be just. 
 
 Let not him that is houseless enviously 
 Pull down the house his thrifty neighbor built, 
 But let him work himself as diligently, 
 And build himself a house, thus by example, 
 Assuring that his house be safe from violence. 
 
GILDER'S COMMENT 
 
 Mr. R. W. Gilder, in his masterly "Lincoln the 
 Leader," speaking of Lincoln's literary style, says: 
 
 Lincoln's style might have had all these qualities 
 and yet not carried as it did. Beyond these traits 
 comes the miracle — the poetical cadence of his prose 
 and its traits of pathos and of imagination. Lincoln's 
 prose, at its height and when his spirit was stirred 
 by aspiration and resolve, affects the soul like noble 
 music. Indeed, there may be found in all his gr^at 
 utterances a strain which is like the leading motive 
 in musical drama, a strain of mingled pathos, heroism 
 and resolution. That is the strain in the two inaugur- 
 als, in the "Gettysburg Address," and in his letter 
 of consolation to a bereaved mother, which moves the 
 hearts of generation after generation. 
 
THE COMMON PEOPLE 
 
 God must have loved the Common People much, 
 Or he would not have made so many of them. 
 Let me appeal to you again, good people, 
 To bear in mind, the Union rests with you. 
 Not with the politicians, not with presidents, 
 Nor yet with office-seekers, but with you, 
 Remains the question, — Shall the Union live, 
 And shall the liberties of this our country 
 Survive, and be preserved for generations? 
 
 HONOR THE SOLDIERS 
 
 AND BLESS THE WOMEN OF AMERICA 
 
 Washington Fair, March, 1864 
 
 This extraordinary war, wherein 
 
 We are so long engaged, falls heavily 
 
 Upon all classes of our people, yet 
 
 Most hard and heavily upon the soldiers. 
 
 You know it has been said, all a man hath 
 
 He will surrender freely for his life. 
 
 And while you all contribute of your substance, 
 
 The soldier puts his very life at stake, 
 
 And often yields it up for love of country. 
 
 The highest merit then is due the soldier. 
 
 In the relief of soldiers and their families, 
 
 The Women of America stand foremost. 
 
 In art of eulogy and compliment 
 
 I am not well accustomed. But if all 
 
 That has been said by orators and poets, 
 
 Since Eve's creation in the world of Man, 
 
 In praise of Women, were applied to ours, 
 
 It would not half do justice to the Women 
 
 Of our America, for their good conduct 
 
 In this hard war. Now let me close by saying, 
 
 God bless the Women of America! 
 
ANN RUTLEDGE 
 
 / truly loved the girl, so sweet and gay, 
 I loved the woman dearly; to this day 
 I love the name of Rutledge. Sweet and fair 
 Was Ann, with sunny streaming golden hair, 
 With cherry lips and bonny bright blue eye, — 
 A lovely girl to make a lover sigh. 
 
 She had a loving heart, a lofty mind, 
 
 A gentle spirit, natural and kind, 
 
 I loved her rosy cheek and lily brow. 
 
 I truly loved her, and I love her now. 
 
 She would have made a good and loving wife, 
 
 Had not a fever coveted her life. 
 
 THE SABBATH 
 
 As we shall keep or break the Sabbath Day, 
 
 We nobly save, or meanly lose 
 The last best hope for which we fondly pray, 
 
 The rest and peace, and time to muse 
 Of friends away from home and hearth, 
 And hopes and loves beyond this earth. 
 
LINCOLN'S WORDS ON ANN RUTLEDGE 
 
 After Lincoln's election to the Presidency, an old 
 friend asksd him if it was true that he loved and 
 courted Ann Rutledge, and Lincoln replied: 
 
 "It is true — true; indeed I did. I have loved the 
 name of Rutledge to tnis day. It was my first. I 
 loved the woman dearly. She was a handsome girl; 
 would have made a good, loving wife; was natural and 
 quite intellectual, though not highly educated. I did 
 honestly and truly love the girl, and think often, often 
 of her now." 
 
 Ann's father was one of the famous South Carolina 
 families, who had emigrated to Kentucky and Illinois, 
 founding the village of New Salem. 
 
 Lincoln's rival, McNamara, described Ann as a love- 
 ly, refined girl, with golden hair, cherry-red lips, and 
 a bonny blue eye." 
 
SHAKESPEARE 
 LINCOLN'S APPRECIATION — MACBETH 
 
 In a letter to the famous actor, James K. Hackett, 
 August 17, 1863, Lincoln wrote as follows: 
 
 "For one of my age I have seen very little of the 
 drama. Some of Shakespeare's plays I have never 
 read, while others I have gone over perhaps as fre- 
 quently as any unprofessional reader. Among* the lat- 
 ter are "Lear" "Richard III", "Henry VIII", "Ham- 
 let", and especially "Macbeth". I think nothing equals 
 "Macbeth." It is wonderful." 
 
 Lord Carlisle was one of the few Shakespearian 
 clitics who voiced the same praise of "Macbeth." 
 
 Dr. Warren, Editor of Lincoln Lore, says that Lin- 
 coln probably understood Shakespeare, so far as he 
 had read him, far better than many men who set 
 themselves up for critical authorities. 
 
 In 1907, at Stratford on Avon, the editor of this 
 booklet published a readable abridgement of "Mac- 
 beth", in sixteen pages, illustrated from the old Cas- 
 sell prints, with the intervening story in blank verse, 
 composed almost entirely of Shakespeare's own 
 phrases. 
 
 "Macbeth" was chosen as the most interesting and 
 thrilling drama, for the first of a series, entitled, 
 "The Royal Road to Shakespeare" 
 by Paul Hunter Dodge 
 
 This abridgement found an eager reception among 
 Eton, Rug-by, Cambridge and Oxford students, and 
 was republished in America, under the title, Shakes- 
 pearean Poems, in 1907. 
 
 "Hamlet", "Othello", "Lear", "Caesar", "Romeo and 
 Juliet" and the "Merchant of Venice" still wait in 
 manuscript. 
 
MOTHER BIXBY 
 
 Lincoln's Letter to a War Mother of Five Sons 
 
 Among the records of the War Department, 
 I have been shown a paper full of grief 
 But full of pride and honor to a Mother 
 Of Massachusetts sons whose names are Bixby, 
 
 You are the Mother of five noble Sons 
 Who all died gloriously on the field of battle, 
 I feel how weak and altogether fruitless 
 Must be these words, or any words of mine 
 To stay a grief of loss so overwhelming. 
 
 But I cannot refrain from tendering you 
 Whatever consolation you may find 
 In thanks of a republic which they died to save, 
 I pray our heavenly father may assuage 
 The anguish of your heart, and leave you only 
 The cherished memory of the loved and lost, 
 The solemn pride that must be yours forever, 
 To have laid on the altar-stone of freedom 
 So costly and so dear a sacrifice. 
 
POETRY ABOUT LINCOLN 
 WALT MASON AND WALT WHITMAN 
 
 A hundred poems eulogizing Abraham Lincoln have 
 been collected in "The Poet's Lincoln," by Osborn 
 Olroyd. (Chappie, Boston, 1915). 
 
 Foremost of these is Walt Mason's "The Eyes of 
 Lincoln." 
 
 Here, it may be remarked that Walt Mason wrote 
 true poetry in the form of prose, while Walt Whitman 
 generally wrote prose in the form of poetry. 
 
 POETRY — POESY — PROSERY 
 
 We need more exact words for literary forms. The 
 word Poetry should be confined to true rhymed lyric 
 poetry, as the public mind knew poetry in Tennyson, 
 Shelley and Keats, in Longfellow, Whittier and Poe. 
 Let blank verse be called Poesy, in which the poetic 
 thought is paramount, and the unrhymed but elastic 
 rhythmical form secondary. But let us call mere orna- 
 mental or metaphorical prose, Prosery, which would 
 cover most of Whitman's exclamations, and most of 
 his followers' ornate works. 
 
 Whitman however did write a few real poems, and 
 one of his best is of Lincoln, O Captain! My Captain! 
 
 THE EYES OF LINCOLN 
 
 — Walt Mason 
 
 Sad eyes, 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 tired from the clamor and goading, 
 And dim from the stress of the years, 
 
 And hollowed by pain and foreboding, 
 And stained by repression of tears. 
 
 Sad eyes that were weary and blighted, 
 
 By visions of sieges and wars, 
 Now watch o'er a country united, 
 
 From the luminous slopes of the stars! 
 
LINCOLN THE POET 
 
 PAUL HUNTER 
 
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