The Wheeling daily register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1864-1878, 1865-04-24
Yearly Advertising.
Ap.em Recited by MIR. LincoIn.

MIR. F.B. Carpenter gives the follow
ing account of the poem we present De-
low which has now most melancholy
interest in view of the sad fate OF the
President. Mr.. Carpenter says: Inc
circumstances under which this copy was
written are these: Twas with the Presi-
dent alone one evening in his room du-
ring the time / was painting my large
picture at the White House last year
He presently threw aside his pen and pa
pers, and began to talk to me OF shaks-
peare. He sent little Tad" his son, TO
the library to bring a copy of the plays
and then read to me several of his favor
tie passages, showing genuine apprecla-.
ton of the great poet. Relapsing into
sadder strain. he laid the book aside, and
leaning back in his chair, sand:
"There is a poem which has been
great fayorite with me for years, which
was first shown to me when q young
man by a friend, and which / afterward
saw and cut from a newspaper and
learned by heart. II would" he contln-
ued, "give a great deal to know VINO
wrote it, but have never been able 10
ascertain"
Then half closing his eyes he repeated
to me the lines which enclose TO you
Greatly pleased and interested, l told
him would like, if ever an opportunity
occurred, to write them down from his
lips. He said he would sometime give
them to me- A few days afterward he
asked me to accompany him to the tenn
porary studio of Mr.. Swayne, the sculp-
tor, who was making bust OF him at
the Treasury Department. While he"as
sitting for the bust [ was suddenly re-
minded of the poem, and said to him
that then would be good time to dictate
it to me. He complied, and sitting upon
some books at his feet, as nearly as l can
remember, wrote the lines down, one
by one. from his lips.
Oh! WAY should the Spirit of Mortal
be PrOudf
Oh why should the spirit of mortal be proudf
Like q swift, feeting meteor, fast Tying cloud,
A flash of the lightning, break OF the wave,
He passeth from life to his rest in the grave
The leaves of theoak and the willow shall fade,
Re scattered around and together be laid
And the young and the old, and the low and the
high,
Shall 9oulder to dust and together shall lie.
The infant mother attended and loved;
The mother that infants affection who proved;
The husband that mother and infant who blessed,
Each, ALL are away to their dwellings OF rest.
The hand of the king hat the sceptre hath
borne;
The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn,
Us xbaa and he hear nf fhp
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 mp
the steep;
The beggar who wandered in search OF his bread,
Have faded away like the grass that we tread
So the multitude goes, like tbs flower or the
weed
That withers away to let others succeed;
So the multitude comes even these we behold
To repeat every tale that has often been told.
For we are the same our fathers have been;
We see the same sights eur fathers have seen-
We drink the same stream and view the some
and run the same course our fathers have run.
The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would
think; rss eEt .l- .f
From the death we are shrinking our Fathers
would shrink
To the life we are clinging they also would cling;
But it speeds for us all, like bird OH the wing.
They loved, but the story We cannot unfold;
They scorned but the heart of the naughty is
cold;
They grieved, but no wall from their slumber
will come
They joyed, but the tongue of their gladnessi is
dumb.
They died, aye they die; we things that are now,
That walk on the turf that lies over their brow,
And make in their dwellings transient abode,
Meet the things that they meet on their pilgrim
age road
Yesi hope and dependency, pleasure and pain,
Wemingle together in sunshine and rain;
And the smile and the tear, the song and the
dirge,
Still follow each other like surge upon surge.
lis the wink of an eye, tbs the draught of a
breath;
From the bosom of health to the paleness OF
death,
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the
shroud-
oh why should the spirit of mortal be proudi
- III 3