ABRAHAM LINCOLN
Johnson, Richard L.
Abraham Lincoln By RICHARD L. JOHNSON (Copyrighted, 1913, by R. L. Johnson) CAN MAN be mortal and immortal, toot Or does the sable hearse with raven plumes Contain the soul of him whose body it...
...The supreme genius of the womb of Time, Whose Pantheon is—the loving heart of man...
...A radiant soul full of rare gifts concealed...
...the source from which he drew The lessons learned in hardihip's rugged school, Gave wisdom that can, cheer and guide and ride In softer airs than ever favored thine, With note of justice and the touch divine...
...And, as the eagle borne on tireless wings In upper air, where neither tempest nor The sound of avalanche is heard, renews, At that vast height, its strength...
...The Atlas of a heavy-burdened race, A new-found Moses in the niche of Time, Who laid its sorrows at the feet of God, And, broke its shackles with his potent pen...
...Can he that's godlike in his thoughts and deeds, Who emphasized the equal rights of all With earnest thought on History's blazing page, Pure gold without alloy, the guinea's worth For Justice—ever die, or be confined in mummy case or pyramid of stone...
...Keen-edged and tempered by a righteous will For trials, toils and triumphs soon to come...
...The Bandit Bee now feels his providence In planting roses where the thistles grew, The South-land now proclaims his innate worth, Records his name among her noblest sons...
...A Socrates and Pericles—in one...
...How passing strange and marvelous he was, So complex none cam, fully comprehend The great emancipator of a race...
...Who missive sped which hath no counterpart To her, who gave the Union all, five sons, With quill plucked from his sad and bleeding heart, He gave her all he had, the Nation's tears...
...He towered above the common type of man, As mountain, peak cbove the vales below...
...For Mm Reflection trims her solemn lamp Who made the Declaration, not a farce Defying all the hordes of hell to check, Or chill the tireless pulsings of his heart, Till, Phoenix-like, he rose above the ash Which Death and fiery Desolation made To throne of God, on stairs of martyrdom...
...His Master, God...
...That Star that lit a darkened hemisphere, Shines on where Morning swings her gates of light...
...Avaunt the thought that such as he could die, Whose awkward form concealed a master mind, That roused the world to wonder and surprise, Achieved a nation's grand, harmonious whole— When grim destruction sought to rend the State, And wild confusion seemed to reign supreme, When smoke of battle mingled with the clouds That shadowed him—the martyr President, Whose influence forever will prevail While stars shine on in depths of trackless skies...
...so he, when worn And sore perplexed with cares of state, would soar Upward and far beyond the eagle's flight, To those supernal heights which prophecy And faith reveal to man, and there imbibe Full inspiration for the work to come...
...While eulogy abounds and praises blend With choirs divine, to all the great and good Who bless the earth with sense of brotherhood, The grandest pattern still for all the world Is that majestic figure, standing on The Arch of Time, which Washington designed, Still, incomplete withovt the, keystone, true The perfect golden dower of every one Himself to own, the postulate of God, Which, Jefferson inscribed on Parchment Scroti, And Lincoln laid wilh mortar of his soul...
...Alone, he lives, pre-eminenty great— Among the sons of men, Affection's star, A Statesman wise, and a philosopher...
...When Prejudice gives way to lasting Truth, A pedestal of glory his reward...
...All hail and honor to his glorious name, Who sued from God the franchise of a race, Righting the wrongs the curse of bondage made, Restoring mankind to its rightful place...
...Self-made, he was, but worshipped not himself...
...Abraham Lincoln By RICHARD L. JOHNSON (Copyrighted, 1913, by R. L. Johnson) CAN MAN be mortal and immortal, toot Or does the sable hearse with raven plumes Contain the soul of him whose body it conveys To that unvoiced abode, the silent tomb...
Vol. 5 • February 1913 • No. 6
