Pomeroy weekly telegraph. [volume] (Pomeroy, Meigs County, Ohio) 1860-1866, 1865-05-04
Tea 3petrN.e edyu gitsay.
A Poem Rseited by Mr.. Lincoln.
70 the Editors Of the Evening ri,,g Post, "a"

AZ tne haitors Of the Evening Post:
4 have been urged by several friends to sen
you the inclosed poem, written down by my
self from Mr.. .Lincoln's lips, and, Although
may not be new to all Of your readers, iii
events OF the past week give it now d peculia
i interest gs 100 : ..'9a7js III
The circumstances under which this COP
was written are these was with the Pres
dent alone one evening in his room, durin,
the time was painting my large picture a
the White House, last year. he PRESENT.,
threw aside his pen and papers, and began t
talk to me Of Shakespeare He sentlittle aTad, :
his son, to the library To bring 4 COPY of the
plays, and then read to me several Of his "a
vorite passages, showing genuine appreciation
OF the great poet Re!apsng into saddel
strain, he laid the book aside, and, leaning
back in his chair, said: N o. . 'I.I0 Q
There is poem that has been great ia.
yorite with me for years, which was first shown
to me when young man by friend, and
which l aiterward saw and cut from newspa-
per and learned by heart would" lie con.
tinued, give great deal to know who wrote
it, but have never been able to ascertain y
Then, half closing his eyes, he repeated to me
the lines which | enclose to you. Greatly
pleased and interested, told him would like
IT 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 af
terward, he asked me to accompany him to
the temporary studio of Mr. Swayne, the sculp-
tor, who was making bust Of him at the,
Treasury Department While he was sitting
for the bust was suddenly remmded of the
poem, and said to him that then would be h
good time to dictate it to me. He complied,
and sitting on some books at his feet, as near
ly as can remember, wrote the lines down,
one by one, from his lips. .''''" 1"a'"l
With great regard, very truly yours,
F. B. CARPENTER.
Oh! why should the Spirit of Mortal be
t| '"h VI ProudP m '1T- ~
Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Like swift Heeting meteor, a fast-hying cloud,
a Hash of the lightning, q break of the wave,
lie 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
l'& high - T'SE - INV
Shall molder to dust and together shall lie
The infant n mother attended and loved.
The husband that mother and infant who blessed. I
Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest.
rhe hand of the king that the sccpter hath
borne; 80"
The brow of the priest that the mitor hath worn
fhe eye of the sage and the heart of the brave,
IRE hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.
The peasant whose lot was to SOW and to reap; Il
me herdsman, who climbed with his goats 'up
1.-THE stcen: ..t..I .' - go IP
ne besgar who wandered in search of his bread.
lave faded away like tho grass that we tread.
o the multitude goes, like the flower or the weed
'hal withers away to lot Others succeed;
o the multitude comes, even those we behold. |,
. repent eyeryita that has often beon told.
or we are the same our fathers have been; S
' o see the same sights our fathers have scen--.
W drink the same stream and view the same sun,
nd run the same course our fathers have run.
he thoughts we are thinking our fathers would
think; N j
rom the death we are shrinking our fathers 4 !
would shrink; r
o the life wo are clinging they also would cling:
W IT speeds for us all, like bird on the wing.
hey loved, but the story VIC cannot unfold;
ney scorned, but tho heart of the naughty is /
cold; ..1. 49, .... .....
hey grieyed. but no wall from their slumbers /.
will come; .
hey Joyed, but tho tongue Of their gladness is q
dumb. 7SD''
'ey died, ayel they died; we things that are = =
now, .. Y
nat walk on the turf that lies over their brow, e
I'D make in their dwellings transient abode. u
eet the things that they met on their pilgrimage h
,a hope and dependency, pleasure and pain, 81 u