The times., 1890-02-07

The Verses Beginning "Ohi Why should
the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud?'' Etc.

The Verses Beginning "Ohl Why should
the Spirit OF Mortal Be Proud?" Etc.
''There is a poem," said Lincoln,
(which has been great favorite with
ne for years, which was first shown me
when young man by a friend, and
which / afterwards saw and cut from
newspaper and learned by heart. Iwould
give good deal to know who wrote it,
but never have been able to ascertain"
Then, half closing his eyes, he repeated
the verses:
Obi why should the spirit of mortal be prouds
Like a swift fitting meteor fast flying cloud,
The flash OF the lightning, break OF the wave,
He passes 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
high
Shall molder 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 blest,
Each. all are away to their dwellings of rest.
The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in
whose eye,
Shone beauty and pleasure. her triumphs are by;
And the mem'ry of those who loved her and
praised
Are alike from the minds of the living erased.
The hand of the king that the scep.er hath borne
The brow OF the priest that the inter hath worn,
The eye of the sage and the heart of The brave
Are hidden and lost In the depths OF the grave.
The peasant whose lot was to SOW and to reap,
The herdsInan who climbed with his goats up the
steep,
The beggar who wandered In search of his bread
Have faded away like the grass that we tread.
The saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven
The sinner who dared to remain unforgiven,
The wise and the foolish. the guilty and just
Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.
So the multitude goes like the flower or the weed
That withers away to let others succeed;
So the multitude comes. even those we behold,
To repeat every tale that has often been told
For we are the same that our fathers have been;
We SEQ the same sights our fathers have seen;
We drink the same streams and view the same
sun,
And run the same course our fathers have run.
think,
From the death we are shrinking our fathers would
shrink;
To tho life we are clingng they also would cling,
But it speeds from all like a bird on the wing.
They loved, but the story cannot unfold;
They scorned but the heart of the naughty Is cold;
They greved, but no wall from their slumber viii
come;
They joyed but the tongue Of their gladness is
dumb
They died. ay, they died. Wethings 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 met on their pilgrimage
road.
Yea, hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
Are mingled together in sunshine and rain;
And the smile and the tear, the song and the
dirge,
Still follow each other like surge upon sarge.
'Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught Of a
breath,
From the blossom Of health to the paleness of
death,
From the gded salon to the bier and the shroud
oh. why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
In Household Book of Poetry" con-
tanning selections by Charles A. Dana,
William Knox is given as the author