Delaware State journal and statesman., 1865-04-25
} d. Eailsr q a. N.g Ng,E Ey..ina Pe.l

To hs Editor Of the Nsp York EVsAilg POsG
/ have been urged by several friends to send
you the enclosed poem, written down by my.
self from Mr. Lincoas lips, aud although il
nay not be new to all Of your readers, the
vents of the last week give it now peculiar
Z Itenest.
The circumstances under which this copy
vas written are these was with the President
alone one evening in his room, during the time
was painting my large picture at the Wbite
House, last year lie presently threw aside his
oen and papers, and began TO talk to me oil
Shakespeare lie sent little "Tad," his son, to
the library to bring a copy of the plays, and
;hen read to me several Of his faVorite passages,
showing genuine appreciation of the great poet
Relapsing into sAdder strain, he laid the book
.sie. and, leaning back in his chair, said:
"There is poem which has been q great
fAvorte with me for years, which was first shown
to me, when young man, by friend, and
which afterwari saw and cut from news
paper and learned by heart. ! would" he CON
inued, "give great deal to know who wrote
t. hut have never been able to ascertain"
Then half closing his eyes, be repeated to me
the linss which | enclose 10 you. Greatly
please and interested, told him | would like
'If ever an opportunity occurred, to write them
down from his lips lie said be would some
lime try to give them to me- A few days after
ward be asked me to accompany him to the
Temporary studio of Mr.. Swsyne, the sculptor
who was making u bust of him at the Treasury
Department. While he was sitting for the bust
II was suddenly reminded of the poem, and said
to him that then would be good lime to dictate
It to me-. lie complied. and sitting upon come
books III his feet. as nearly as eau remember,
| woe the lines down, one by one, from his
Hips,
With great regard, very truly yours,
r. B. CARPENTER,
10, why SHOULD The SOUL OF MORTAL BE PROUD 7
10, why should the spirit Of mortal be proud
Like swift, fleeing meteor, fast hyiag cloud,
flash Of the lightning, break Of the wave,
lie passcth from life TO bis rest in the grave.
The leaves Of the osk and the willow shall fede,
BE scattered around, and together be laid,
And the young and the old, and the low and the
high
Shall moulder to dust and together shall lie.
The infant mother attended and loved;
The mother that infants affection who porved
The husband that infant and mother who blessed,
Each, ALL are away to their dwellings of Rest.
The hand of the king that the sceptre hath
borne;
rhe brow Of the priest that the mitre hath worn;
The eye Of the sage aud the heart of the brave.
Are hidden aud lost in the depths of the grave.
The peasant whose lot WAS to SOW aud to reap
The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up
the steep;
The besgar, who wandered in search of his
bread,
Have faded away like the grass that we tread.
So the multitude goes like the flower or lie weed
That withers away to 1T others succeed;
So the multitude comes, even those We behold,
To repeat every tale that has often been told.
For We are the same our fathers have been;
We see the same 81 ghts our fathers have seen-
We drink the same stream aud view the sam,
sun,
And run the same course our fathers have run.
The thoughts we are thinking our fathers woulC
think
From the death we are shrinking our father
would shrink;
To the life We are clinging. they also woul,
cling:
But it speeds for us all, like bird on the wing
They loved, bnt the story We cannot unfold;
They scorned, but the heart Of the naughty i
cold,
They grieVed, but no wall from their slumbe
will come;
They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness
dumb.
They died. aye they died; we things that ar
now,
That walk on the turf that lies over their brow
Aud make 10 theirsdwslhngs transient abod,
Meet the ihings that they met on their pilgrim
s age road.
Yea! hope and dependency. pleasure aud pair
We mngle together In sunshine and rain
And the smile and the tear, the song and ill
dirge,
still follow each other like surge upon surge.
'Tis The wink Of an eye, tits the draught Of
breath,
From tho blossom of health to tue paleness
81 death;
From the gilied saloon to the bier and Ii
shr0ud-
% why shsuld the spirit of mortal be proud