Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1882-03-23
TWO POEMS.
Tho EavoriEes Of Lincoln and Gn

a field.
The favorite poems OF Lincoln al
Garfield inspire mournful and perma-
nent interest. The authors of both are
unkr own. Mr.. F. B. Carpenter, the
artist, writes that, while engaged in
painting Lincoln's picture at the White
House, he was alone one evening with
the President in his room, when he said:
There is poem which has been q
great favorite with me for years, which
was first shown to me when young
man by friend, and which / afterward
saw and cut from o newspaper and
learned by heart. / would,' he con-
tinued, "give great de al 20 know who
wrote 1T, but have never been able te
ascertain" Here is the poem
OH, WHY SHOULD rHR SPIRIT OF MORTAR
BR PROUD?
oh, why shouid the spirit Of mortal be proudf
Lise swift-neeting meteor, q fast-nyinR cloud
nssh OF the lightning, break OF the wave
Man passes from life TO his rest IN the grave.
Tho leaves Of the oak and willow ,hall fads
Be scattered around and together be laid;
ana TO Young and the old, AID .h- low and the
high,
Shah moldcr to dus. and together shalt die.
: The infant mother attended and loved
Affection
The husband that mother and infant who blessed
Eat h al, are away to their dwellings of rest.
he maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in who's
shope beauty and plessurc-her triumphs are by:
And the memory OF those who loved her and praised
Are alike from tho minds of tho living erased.
The hand OF the King that the scepter hath borne,
The brow Of the priest that tho inter hath worn
The eye OF the ssgo and the heart of the brave
hidden Gat n he nj NJ
The peasant. whose lot was to SOW and TO resp:
The herasman, who climbed with his goats up the
steep;
The besgar, who wandered in search Of his broad,
Have faded away liie the grass that we tread.
The saint who enjoyed the communion Of heaven.
The sinner who dared 10 remain unforsiysn
The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just
Have quietly mingled their bones In thu dust.
30 thu multitude goes, like the flower or tho weed
IhA. withers away to lot others succeed.
30 tho multitude comes, even those We bchold
To repeat every tale that has often been tols
For We srs the same our fathers have been.
We see the same sights our fathers have s.en-
We drinf the same stream and view the ssme SUD.
And run the Same course our fathers have run
The thoughts We are thinking our fathers would
From the death we are shrinking our fathers would
shrink;
But II speeds for us all like bird on the wing
They loved, but the story we cannot unfold:
Thcy scorned, but the heart of the naughty 10 cold
They gricved, but no wall from their sfumbers viii
come;
They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness 1.
dumb
They die ayl they died; and We thing, that arc
now,
Who walk on the turf that lies over their br "a
who mske in their dyelIinQ a trsn all .hodn
Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage
roal
Yea hope and dependency, pleasure and pain.
We mingls together In sunshine and rain:
And the smiles and the tears tho song and tho dirge
stu follow each other, Ike surge upon surge.
It's the wink of an eye, It's tho draught OF
breath,
From III. blossom Of health to the paoness of
From the sdod saloon to the bier and til.
0, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Garfields favorite poem, which we
give below, has lofty tone not unlike
that of Lincoln's. It would be a dull
soul who could read it without taking
inspiration and comfort from it:
Hol RHAPERs OF LIES HARVEST.
HoI respers Of nfe's harvest
Why stand with rusted blade
Until the night draws round thee
And day begins 10 fadef
Why stand ye idle, waiting
For reapers more to Gomez
The golden morn 10 passing;
Why sit ye idle, dumb?
Thrust in your sharpened sickle.
And gather in the grain;
The night 10 fast approaching.
And noon will come again.
The Master calls for reapers
And shall He call in vain7
Shall sheavcs lie there ungAthered,
And waste upon the plain?
Mount up the heights Of wisdom
And crush each error low;
Keep back no words Of knowledge
That human hearts should know
BE- faithfuto thy mission
In service of thy Lord
And then golden chaplet
Shall be thy just reward.