And this is our Lincoln's glory, A steadfast soul and true, Who stood for his country's union, When his country called him to. And now that we once more are one, And our flag of stars is flung To the breeze in defiant challenge, His name is on every tongue.
Yes, it's splendid to live so bravely, To be so great and strong, That your memory is ever a tocsin To rally the foes of the wrong; To live so proudly and purely That your people pause in their way, And year by year, with banner and drum, Keep the thoughts of your natal day.
[C] Adapted by the editor from the author's excellent tribute to Washington. The poem is equally true to the character and work of Lincoln as well as the love for him.
We have read the stories glowing, Found in annals of old, Of mighty conquerers marching, With cohorts strong and bold:
We see the proud monarch, riding In grand and lofty state, We hear the clamor, extolling His skill and prowess great.
But, grander by far the vision Modern annals unclose: Through the burning streets of Richmond Walks Lincoln 'mong his foes.
Though no pride of state surrounds him, On every side we hear: "Foh Marsa Linkum, bress de Lawd." "De Sabiour now am near."
"O, honey chile, jes' tech him once!" "Suah heben is 'mos' nigh." "I's on de mount, O, Gawd, I is." "Dis niggah now kin die."
O, the poor untutored negroes! And yet I am sure, to him Before those cries of joy and love Earth's brightest gauds grew dim.
And, I think, his heart that morning A throb exultant gave; For never more his countrymen Could know the name of slave!
From out the strong young west he came In those warlike days of yore, When Freedom's cry had reached the sky And rung from shore to shore.
He knew the world was watching him, He heard the words of scorn, He felt the weight of a severed State By cruel rebellion torn.
But calling on Jehovah, He seized his mighty pen And with a stroke, the chains he broke From a million bonded men.
He was a dauntless leader As among the host he moved, And he gave his life in the time of strife To save the cause he loved.
Hats off! Along the street there comes A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums, A flash of color beneath the sky; Hats off! The flag is passing by!
Blue and crimson and white it shines, Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines. Hats off! The colors before us fly; But more than the flag is passing by: