LINCOLN THE POET LINCOLN'S POEMS Edited and Embellished nr''i IE POET HUNTER LINCOLN ROOM UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY MEMORIAL the Class of 1901 founded by HARLAN HOYT HORNER and HENRIETTA CALHOUN HORNER Read LINCOLN'S POEMS at Gilmore's News-stand, Read LINCOLN'S POEMS Olivers, Silers, Harmasons WE ARE NOT ENEMIES BUT FRIENDS Now I am loath to close. We ate not enemies, Bat 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. — Price, 194 1 - Feb., Mar., Apr., $1.00 May, June, July, $1.25 August, Sept., $1.50 After Oct. 1. '41. $2.00 LINCOLN T. T Poems by ABRAHAM LINCOLN Edited by « The Poet Hunter ffl 386=3 SSE 3£=K sjs jj: >j« sjc * Jfc H* First Complete Edition New Orleans Feb. 28, 1941 / have over 60,000 good books in my library, with all the wisdom of the world, but most of them are m?n's Books, — ponderous tomes of legal lore. The books I love best are the lives of great men, Washington, Jefferson and Lee, and the songs of the poets, Moore and Burns, Longfellow and Whittier, Tennyson and Shakespeare; but the volume I prize most is a little blue and gold book of poetry and patriotism. ALICE Magee, State Librarian. Kentucky, Feb. 12, 1809 <&* The Poet Hunter visits New Orleans Abraham Lincoln's Poems -Published in City A new and little-known side of Abraham Lincoln — his excursions into the realm of poetry — is ex- amined in the book, "Lincoln the Poet," a volume which recently came off the press in New Or- leans. The book, compiled by an Indi- ana attorney and poet, Paul Hunt- er, contains 27 poems attributed to Abraham Lincoln, many in whose high poetic utterance the author finds similarity to the works of the major poets. The volume, which had its orig- inal printing in Chicago, was brought here for a second print- ing "so that the South can learn to love Lincoln as a truly great poet rather than as war president or emancipator," its author said. He emphasized that though he himself acted as "editor and em- bellisher," in revising some of the poems and in heightening their cadence, the basic thought and rhythm are those of Lincoln him- self. Mr. Hunter in a preface points to Lincoln's love of the great poets, and comments that much of their lofty thought and tech- nique permeated his own works. The first poem, embodying the line, "All that I am, all that I hope to be, I owe to my angel mother," was assembled and rhymed by the compiler from phrases assembled from Lincoln's reported sayings and speeches. In others, particularly those em- bracing the president's most fa- mous sayings, the same procedure has been followed, but much of the rhymed verse is Lincoln's own composition. Falling into the latter category, he continues, is a Lincoln creation titled "The Deserted Village." Ref- erence is made to the last stanza, described as "nearly perfect poe- try." It is: "I range the fields with pensive tread, And pace the hollow rooms, And feel, companion of the dead, I'm living in their tombs." The poem, "The Madman," com- posed by Lincoln in 1844, yields several stanzas of lofty and in- spired poetry. Noteworthy is the 10th: "Air held its breath; trees with the spell Seemed sorrowing angels round; Their swelling tears in dewdrops fell Upon the listening ground." In lighter vein is offered Lin- coln's "The Bear Hunt." Typical of the theme and meter are the second and third stanzas: "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." New Orleans Times-Picayune Editorial Feb. 23, 1941. L, LINCOLN THE POET •%. ifc >i? :J; ^c The Immortal Abraham LINCOLN'S POEMS Richly Illustrated with Lincoln Photographs First Complete Edition 30 Poems by Abraham Lincoln Liberally Edited and Embellished By THE POET HUNTER Ph. B., J. D. University of Chicago, Editor of Shakesperian Poems, 1907, Author of "Songs of Chivalry," 1914, Editor of "Domicile," etc., in Corpus Juris. SEVEN LAMPS OF POETRY The Seven Lamps of Poetry are Rhyme And Rhythm, tuned to music of the lyre; And Sense and Sentiment, thought and desire; Emotion, passion and true love sublime; Sweet Euphony, like water, fire and air; And Metaphor, that doth all things compare. — Paul Hunter First Complete Edition Copyright 1941, by Paul Hunter Dodge Harvey Press, New Orleans $1 Feb. 12. 1941 Copyright 193 7, by Lincoln Nat. Life LINCOLN'S CONSENT TO PUBLICATION OF POEMS 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 entirely to your discretion; but let names by suppressed by all means." — A. Lincoln. 6 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 h's 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. "My Angel Mother" Copyright, J934 by Lincoln Nat. Life Lincoln's Early Home in lnffl&m< LINCOLN THE POET PAUL HUNTER 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; He had a poet's love of rhyme and rhythm: 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; 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. 10 LINCOLN THE POET 9|c s)e a|s afe 3|e sfs s|s ABRAHAM LINCOLN'S POEMS * * * CONTENTS * * * $ $ $ $ $ $ $ MY ANGEL MOTHER THE DESERTED VILLAGE THE MAD-MAN THE BEAR HUNT LOST FRIENDS ABE'S INK AND PEN ADAM AND EVE'S WEDDING DAY 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 PATRIOTISM, PASSION AND REASON THE DANGERS OF DICTATORSHIP TEMPERANCE AND PROHIBITION MAKE AMERICA GREAT ANN RUTLEDGE THE COMMON PEOPLE HONOR THE SOLDIERS LABOR AND CAPITAL THE GOLDEN RULE CHURCH THE SABBATH THE CABINET PAINTER THE INESTIMABLE JEWEL THE PHILOSOPHY OF CANES THE TIGHT-ROPE WALKER MOTHER BIXBY 11 MY ANGEL MOTHER 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, like a flame of light, — 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. 12 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. I 3 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." $100.00 Reward to poet hunters. The editor will pay One Hundred Dollars, ($100.00) reward for discovery of the fourth canto, (probably lost in Southern Indiana or Central Illinois) , duly authenticated, before the next edition. 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. Warren, Editor of Lincoln Lore, Lincoln National Life Founda- tion, 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 is far superior to Gold- smith's "Mad-Dog." J4 SATIRES AND CHRONICLES Young Abe wrote many "Satires" and "Chronicles" in his late teens, and early twenties, which are only preserved in fragments. Even if we had them in full, Lamon says they are hardly fit for publication. His Chronicles were many, and on a great variety of subjects. They were written in the scriptural style, but they betray a limited acquaintance with their model. Weddings, fights, — "Crawford's Nose," "Sister Gordon's Innocence," "Brother Harper's Wit," — were all served up, fresh and gross, for the amusement of the groundlings. The "Chronicles of Reuben" (Grigsby) were written in vengeance, on the Grigsbys, for failure to invite Abe to a wedding. His poem on Joel and Mary, and Billy and Natty, is too spicy to print here. (See Lamon's Life of Lincoln, p. 63, and Third Edition of Lincoln's Poems.) Abe dropped the "Chronicles" at a point on the road, where the Grigsbys found them and became infuriated, and a family fight was had, a mile from Gentryville. 15: 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 boys we went to school together. 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. "If I should ever send you another, the subject will be a "Bear Hunt." Yours as ever, A. Lincoln." It Jj|t 16 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, Seem hallowed, pure and bright, Like scenes of some enchanted isle, Alt 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 We've known, but know no more. Now twenty years have passed away Since here I bade farewell To woods and field 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. 17 / 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! TIME sfc $ sfc H* 4* H* H 8 Time! what an empty vapor t'is! And days how swift they are! Swift as an Indian arrow, — Swift as a shooting -star; The present moment now is here, Then slides away in haste, — So we can never say, they're ours, But only, they are past, (p. 62, Lamon's Life of Lincoln) 18 THE MAD-MAN Abraham Lincoln, 1844 Here is an object of more 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. 19 And when at length, though drear and long, Time soothed your fiercer woes, How plaintively your mournful song Upon the still night rose. I've 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 fell Upon the listening ground. But this is past, and naught remains That raised you o'er the brute; Your maddening shrieks and soothing strains, Are like, forever mute. Now fare thee 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 keepst the world in fear, Why dost thou tear more blest ones hence, And leave him lingering here! 20 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. 21 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 Hill drops his gun. 22 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 dogs, 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, Tiger!' 'Seize him, Drum!' 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 every 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. 23 But, who did this, and how to trace What's true from what's a lie, — hike lawyers in a murder case They stoutly argufy. Aforesaid fice, 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. LINCOLN'S BEAR HUNT AND SCOTT'S CHASE Lincoln sent his friend Johnson these twenty-two verses, which he called "The Bear Hunt," mixing back- woods slang with fine phrases of standard English poets. Lincoln had undoubtedly 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 appropri- ate, and fully as interesting and exciting, if not as elegant as Scott's. 24 LOST FRIENDS How miserable we are in this sad world; We have no pleasures, if we have no friends; If we have friends, we lose them, and joy ends, And we are doubly pained by gain and loss! ABE'S INK AND PEN Lincoln's First Poem written at age of seven Abraham Lincoln, his hand and pen; He will be good, but God knows when! Pope-berry ink, — goose-quill pen, Abe 11 be a good writer, But God knows when! (p. 248 Lamon's Life of Lincoln) 25 ADAM AND EVE'S WEDDING DAY Written by Abe Lincoln, at seventeen as a folk-song for his sister's wedding When Adam was created, He dwelt in Eden 's shade, As Moses has recorded; And then sweet Eve was made! Ten thousand times ten thousand Of creatures swarmed around, And all in pairs were browsing, — Before a bride was found. The Lord then was not willing That Man should be alone, But caused a sleep upon him, — And took from him a bone. He closed the wound He opened, And took the flesh and bone, And of it made a Woman, For Adam's garden home. Then Adam was rejoiced much, To see his loving bride, — A part of his own body, — The product of his side. This Woman was not taken From Adam's feet, we see; So he must not abuse her, — The meaning seems to be. This Woman was not taken From Adam's head, we know, — To show, she must not rule him, — f Tis evidently so. This Woman, she was taken From under Adam's arm, So She must be protected From injuries and harm. Sweet Eve was taken near his heart, And so it seems quite clear, Adam must always love her, And she must hold him dear. 26 to f V ^ ^t^A«^*V A'aTIas )&-