The Arizona sentinel., 1885-02-14
TWO POEMS.
Khs FAverites of Lincoln and Gar field.

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 The fayorite poems of Lincoln and Garfield inspire mournful and perma- nent interest. The authors of both are unknown. MT. 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: "Thers is . poem which has been great favorite with me for years, which was first shown to me when young man by 6 friend, and which afterward saw and cut from Q newspaper and learned by heart. I would," he con- inued, [" give a great de al to know who wrote it, but have never been able to ascertain" Here is the poem: OE. WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL
 DE PROUD? Oh why should ths spirit of mortal be proud7 tIie e swift-desting meteor, fast-hying cloud, hash of the .ightLing, 6 break of the wave, Han passes from life to his rest in the grave. The leavss of the oak and willow shall fade, Dc ssattersd around and together be laid; And the young and the old, aud tine low and the high,
 shAu nasidsr to dus. and together shall die. The infant mother attended and loved, fhs mother that infants affection who proved, The husband tlsst mother and infant who blessedi Each, Al, are away to their dwellings of rest The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in who's eye, shons beauty and rleasure-her triumphs are by; And the memory of those who loved her and praised Are alike from the minds of the living erased. The hand of the King that the scepter hath borne, She brow of the priest that the miter hath worn, The eye of the sage and the heart of the brave ld.~ 1ra6 loaf fr, fhAd of,fh nff ha nrou The peasant, whose lot was to SOW and to reap; Ehs hsrdsmAn, who climbed with his goats up the steep;
 Tho bsggar, who wandered in search of his bread, Have faded sway like the grass that we tread. The sain. who enjoyed the communion of heaven, fhG sinner who dared to remain unforgiven, Fhs wisr and the foolish, the guilty and just, Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust Uo the multitude goes like the flower or the weed That vithsrs away to let others succeed; Do the multitude comes, even those we behold, 3e repeat every tale that has often been told For ws gre the psms our fathers have been; hs see the same sights our fathers have seen Ne drink the same stream and view the same sun, kAd xVn the same course our fathers have run. E1s thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think:
 From the death shrinking our fathers would ro sAs lie we are eAnging they also would cling; But if speeds fer us all, Ike bird on the wing. Thsy loved, but the story wo cannot unfold; fsy scerned, but the heart of the naughty is cold They grisrsd, but no wall from their slumbers vii They .oTsd, but the tongue of their gladnssH ia They died, ayI they died; and VIC things that are whe walk cn the turf that lies over their bryw, Whom in their dwelling transient abode, Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.
 Teal heps and dependency, pleasure and pain, Re u1ingiO together in sunshine and rain; And the smiles and the tears song and the dirgc stu follow each other, Ike surge upon surge Tis the wink of an eye, 'hs the draught of breath,
 From the blossom of health to the palsness of death,
 From ths gildsd saloon to the bier and the 0, why should the spirit Os mertal be proudl Garfeld's fayorite poem, which we give below, has lofty tone not unlike Ehat of Lincoln's. It would be @ dull soul who could read it without taking inspiration and comfort from it: zol HEATERS OF LIFE's HARVEST.
 Hol reapers of rfs's harvest,
 why EL2nd with rusted blade
 Until tho night draws round thes
 And day begins to fade7
 Why stand ye idle, waiting
 . For reapers more to comet
 The golden morn is passing;
 Why sit ye idle, dumb?
 Thrust in your sharpened sickle,
 And gather in the grain;
 The night is fast approaching,
 And noon will come again.
 The Master calls for reapers,
 And shall He call in Yain2
 Shall sheaYes lie there ungathered.
 And wiste upon the plain7
 Mount up the heights of wisdom
 And crush each error low;
 Keep back no words of knowledge
 That human hearts should know.
 Be faithful to thy mission,
 In service of thy Lord,
 And then golden chap!et
 Shall be thy just reward.