. The poets' Lincoln : tributes in verse to the martyred President. has written Oak a?id Ivy (poems); Lyrics of LowlyLife (poems), and The Uncalled (a novel). Since1898 he has been on the staff of the Librarian ofCongress. THE POETS LINCOLN 129 LINCOLN HURT was the Nation with a mighty wound,And all her ways were filled with loud the South with unremitting grief,And wept the North that could not find madness joined its harshest tone to strife:A minor note swelled in the song of lifeTill, stirring with the love that filled his breast,But still, unfl
. The poets' Lincoln : tributes in verse to the martyred President. has written Oak a?id Ivy (poems); Lyrics of LowlyLife (poems), and The Uncalled (a novel). Since1898 he has been on the staff of the Librarian ofCongress. THE POETS LINCOLN 129 LINCOLN HURT was the Nation with a mighty wound,And all her ways were filled with loud the South with unremitting grief,And wept the North that could not find madness joined its harshest tone to strife:A minor note swelled in the song of lifeTill, stirring with the love that filled his breast,But still, unflinching at the Rights behestGrave Lincoln came, strong-handed, from afar,—The mighty Homer of the lyre of war!Twas he who bade the raging tempest cease,Wrenched from his strings the harmony of peace,Muted the strings that made the discord,—Wrong,And gave his spirit up in thundrous , mighty Master of the mighty lyre!Earth heard and trembled at thy strains of fire:Earth learned of thee what Heaven already knew,And wrote thee down among her treasured few!. PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Gardner,Washington, D. C, 1865 ALICE CARY was born in Mount Healthy, nearCincinnati, Ohio, April 20, 1820. Her first bookof poems, with her sister Phoebe, wTas publishedin 1850. Her poems and prose writings were picturesfrom life and nature, among which were Pictures ofMemory, Mulberry Hill, Coming Home and died at her home in New York City, February 12,1871. This poem is inscribed to the London Punch. 130 THE POETS LINCOLN 131 ABRAHAM LINCOLN O glittering chaplet brought from other lands!As in his life, this man, in death, is ours;His own loved prairies oer his gaunt, gnarledhands,Have fitly drawn their sheet of summer flowers! N What need hath he now of a tardy crown, His name from mocking jest and sneer to save When every plowman turns his furrow downAs soft as though it fell upon his grave? He was a man whose like the world againShall never see, to vex with blame or prai
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