The Lancaster gazette. [volume] (Lancaster, Ohio) 1863-1886, 1865-05-04
A Poem Reelted by Mr. Lincoln.


To the Eutors OF the Evening Post
have been urged by several friends
to send you the inclosed poem, written
down by myself from Mr.. Lincoln's
lips, and, although it may not be new
to all of your readers, the events Of
the past week give it now peculiar
interest.
The circumstances under which this
copy was written are these: | was
with the President alone one evening
in his room, during the time was
painting my large picture at the White
House, last year. He presently threw
aside his pen and papers, and began
to talk to me of Shakespeare. He sent
little Tad" his son, to the library to
bring copy Of the plays, and then
read to me several of his favorite pas
sages, showing genuine appreciation
of the great poet. Rclapsing into a
sadder strain, he laid the book aside,
and, leaning back in his chair, said:
"Thcro is poem that has been a
great favorite with me for years, which
was first shown to me when a young
man by friend, and which l after
ward saw and cut from newspaper
and learned by heart. / would, he
continued, "givo great deal to know
who wrote it, put have never been
able to ascertain"
Then, half closing his eyes, he re-
peatcd to me the lines which / inclose
to you. Greatly pleased and interest,
cd, told him l would like, if ever an
opportunity occurred, to write them
down from his lips He said he would
some time try to give them to me. A
few days aiterward he asked me to ac
company him to the temporary studio
of Mr.. Svaync, the sculptor, who was
making & bust of him at the Treasury
Department While he was sitting fol
the bust l was suddenly reminded Of
the poem, and said to him that ther
would be a good time to dictate it tC
me. He complied, and sitting OF
some books at his feet, as nearly as
can remember, | wrote the lines down
one by one, from his lips.
With great regard, very truly yours
f. b. CARPENTER.
OH! WHY SsoUs.D THE SPIRIT or
MORTAL BE PROUD!
Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud'
Like swift, fecting meteor, n ftst.nying cloud,
A flash fthc tightening a break ofhe 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 low and the hlgl
Shall moller to dust and together shall lie
The infant mother attended and loved
The mother that infants affection who proved;
The husband that mother and ininntwho blessed,
Each, all, are away to their dwellings Of rest.
The hand of the king that the sccrter hath borne.
The brow of the priest that the mter ath worn;
The eye of the sage and the heart oGthe brave,
Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.
The peasant whose lot was to SOW and to reap;
The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up tn
steep;
The hcggar who wandered IN search ofhis bread,
Have faded away like the grass that we tread.
90 the multitude goes, like the flower the weed
That withcrs away to let others succeed
! ! So the multitude comes, even those we behold,
. To repeat every tale that has often been told.
For we arc the same our fathers have been;
: We see the same sights our fathers have seen
We drink the same stream, and view the same sun
And run the same course our fathers have run.
The thoughts we IRE thinking our fathers woul
| think;
From the death we are shrinking our fathers woul
shrink;
TO the life VIC nre clnglng they also would cling;
BHtt speeds for us all, like bird on the wing.
They loved, but the story we cannot unfold;
They scorncd, but the heart of the naughty is cold;
They grieycd, but 10 wall from their slumber wi
. come;
Thcyjoyed, but the tongue of their gladncss is DUN
They died, oycl they dicdl we things that are nov
That walk on the turf tha, lies over their brow
And make IN their dwellings II transient Nbodc
p Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimag
road.
Wemirge togetherin sunshine and rain:
And the smile and the tear, and the song and tn
dlTgp,
still follow each other, like surge upon surge.
'Tis the wink OF an eye, 's the dnugh ofa breath;
From the blossom ofhcalh to the palcness of deatl
From the glded saloon to the bier and the shroud-
ohwhy should the spirit of mortal be proud'
The poem, entitled "Oh! Why sho'C
the Spirit of Mortal be Proud p at
tributed by many papers TO the lat
. President, was written by Scotcl
!, clergyman named William Knox, VIII
i was born in 1889, and died in Edin
; burg, 1925. Mr.. Lincoln greatly ad
!. mircd it, and it was through his fire.
quent repetition of passages from i
or allusions to it, that the Authorship
was attributed to him.-Cin. Com,
: --------p~ -sB-----
q An English Cure for Drunkenness.
h There isa prescription in use in Eng
n land for the cure Of drunkenness, b,
J. which thousands arc said to have bcel
2 assisted in recovering themselves. Th
c receipt came into notoriety throug
!. the efforts Of John Vine Hall, comman
j, der of the Great Eastern steamship -
lie had fallen into such habitual drunk
u enness, that his most earnest efforts t
h reclaim himself proved unavailing. A
length he sought the advice of an cmi
nent physician who gave him q pre-