Charles City intelligencer. [volume] (Charles City, Floyd County, Iowa) 1864-1866, 1865-05-04

To the Editor of the New YORK Evening Post
l have been urged by several friend
to send you the enclosed poem, writer
. down by myself from Mr.. Lincoln
lips, and, although II may not be new
to all of your readers, the events o
the past week give it now peculia
interest ~ Aa ..7 ..s ttt
| The circumstances under whicl
this copy was written are these: !
was with the President alone one eve
ming in his room, dnring the time
was painting my large picture at tn,
White House, last year. He presently
threw aside his pen and papers, ant
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 IA
vorite passages, showing genuine ap
probation of the great poet. Relaps
ing into sadder strain, he laid the
book aside, and, leaning back in his
chair, said:
"There is poem that has been a
great favorite with me for years
which was first shown to me when a
young man by q friend, and which ]
| forwards saw and cut from a news
paper and learned by heart. l would, y
he continued, "give great deal to
know who wrote it, but have never
been able to ascertain" ,'"a@ 'a"
Then, half closing his eyes, he re.
peatcd to me the lines which inclose
to you. Greatly pleased and interest.
ed, | told him would like, if ever an
opportunity occurred, 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 &C.
company him to the temporary studio
Of Mr. Swayne, the sculptor, who was
making bust of him at the Treasury
Department. While he was sitting
for the bust was suddenly reminded
of the poem, and said to him that then
would he good time to dictate it 10
me. He complied, and sitting on some
books at his feet, as nearly as l can
remember, wrote the lines down, one
by one from his lips. "a'. '-".
With great regard, very truly yours,
f. B. CARPENTER.
OH WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BK PROUD.
Oh why should the spirit Of mortal be proudS
Like a swift feetng meteor, fast flying cloud,
A fash Of the lightning, break Of the wave,
lie passeth from lie 10 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 high,
Shall mouder to dust and together shall lie.
The infant a mother attended and loved
The mother that infants affection who proved
The husband that mother and infant who blessed,
Each, all, are away 10 their dwellings Of rest
The band Of the king that the scepter hath borne;
The brow of the prizes, that the mtre hath worn;
The eye Of the sage and the heart II the brave,
Are hidden and lost in the depths Of the grave.
The peasant, whose lot was 10 sow and to reap:
The herdsman who climbed with goats up the steep
The beggar who wandered in search Of his bread,
Have fadeiaway like the grass that We treat. r..
so the multitude goes, like the flower or weed
That withers away 70 let others succeed .....s
80 the multitude comes, even those We behold -..
/ TO retsat every Laie tllat mas often been t9ll.
| For We are the our fathers have been F.
We 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 thinking fathers would think
From the death shrinking our fathers would shrink
/ To the life clingng they alsc would cling
But il speeds Tor all like bird on the wing. i
4 E
They loved but the story we can not unfold
They seorned but the heart Of the naughty cold
They greved but wall from their siunber will come
They pyed, but the tongue Of their gadness Is dumb
They died, aye they died ; we things that now,
That walk On the turf that lies over their brow,
And make IN their dwellings Tansien, abode, ts e.
Meet the things that they met their pilgrimage road.
Yea hope and dependency, pleasure and pain,
We mngle together In sunshine and rain
And the smile and the tear the song and the drge,
still follow each other Ike surge upon surge.
'Ts the wink Of eye, its the DRAFT u a breath
From the blossom Of health the palenesss Of death
prom the giIded saloon 10 this bier and the shroud-
Oh why should The sIirit OF mortalb be prouds . 49,