The daily Gate City. [volume] (Keokuk, Iowa) 1855-1916, 1865-04-28

AA1 O4A - - A4<A 80
A Peen 8scsseA BY Mp. Lincoln.
10 shs naissaa st ~ \. r 1vn1aeRsAss
l have been urged ~ sevStef ftisedst
send you the ino)ossd poen, wlittsa ds4l
BY myself from Mr.. Lineoln's lips, end
although il nag sot b ~ = ~ * 20
readers. the events Of the past weak CIV
it now . peculiar intspoet. s
The circumstances under which thi
copy was writtea ere these: / Vas viii
the President alone ono evening 10 BIZ
room, durisg The time NJ painting n.
large picture It the White Hoass, las
year. He presently threw aside his POI
and papers, and began 70 talk to mo d
Shakespeare. He sent little "Tad," hii
son, to the library 70 bring copy Of ths
plays, and then read to mo several Of biz
favorite passages. showing genuine ap
probation Of the great poet. Rslapsile
into . sadder strain, he laid the boob
aside, and, leauing back in his chair,
said:
"There 10 poem that has been great
favofits with me for years, which was 6rst
shown to me when young man BY .
friend, and which l afterwards saw and
cut from newspaper and learned BY
heart. | would" he continued, sgive .
great deal to know who wrots il, but have
never been able to ascertain"
Then. half closing his eyes, be repeated
to me the lines which inclose to you.
Greatly pleased and interested, l told him
l would like, if ever an opportunity o.
Cured, to write them down from his lips.
He said he would sometime try to give
them to me. A few days afterward he
asked me to accompany him to the tempo
rary studio OF Mr.. Swsyns, the sculptor,
who was making bust of him st the
Treasury Department. While he vas cit
ting for the bust I was suddenly remind.
ed of the poem, and said to him that then
would be good time to dictate it to me.
He complied, and sitting on some books
at bis feet. as nearly Is can remember.
| wrote the lines down, one BY one. from
his lips.
With great regard, yery1truly yours,
Il. b. CARPENTER.
Oh. WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BE
PRoUDf
On, why should the spirit of mortal be proudi
Like a swift heeting meteor, fast flying cloud,
fash OF the lightning. hreak OF the wave,
he passeth from life to his rest in the grave.
The leaves Of the oak and the willow shall fade,
Be scattered around and together be laid;
And the young and the old and the loo and the high
Shall molder TO dust and together shall lie-
The infant q mother attic nded and loved;
The mother that infants affection who proved;
The husband that mother and infant who blessed.
Each, ALL are away to their dwellings ofrest.
The hand of the king that the scepter hath borne;
The brow of the priest that the inter hath worn;
The eye Of the sage and the heart OF the brave,
Are hidden and lost in the depths OF the grave
The peasants whose lot was to SOW aud to reap;
The herdsman who climbed with his goats up the
The beggar, who wandered In search of his bread,
Have faded away like the grass that we tread.
y the multitude goes. like the 6ower or weed
That withfrs away TO let others succeed
30 the multitude comes. even those We behold,
To repeat every tele that has often been told
For we are the same our fathers haze been:
We the same sights our fathers have seen Il
We drink the same stream and view the same sun
And run the same course our fathers have run.
The thoughts thinking fathers would think
From the death shrinking fathers would |
shrink;
To the life we are clingng they also would cling;
But 1t speeds for us all, like bird on the wing.
They loved, but the story VIC Can not unfold;
They scorned but the heart of the naughty il cold;
They grieved but wall from their slumber will cone,
They oyed but the tongue of their gladness Ii dumb.
They died, ayei they died; things that now,
That Walk the turf that lies their brow,
And make in their dwellings a transient abode.
Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road
Yea hope and dependency, pleasure and paint
We ming together in sunshine and rain;
And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge,
suli follow each other, like surge upon surge.
iis the wink of eye tits the draught OF BREATH
Prom the blossom OF health to the pslene Of death;
From the gilded saloon the bier and the STROUD
Oh, why should the spirit Of mortal be proudi