Graham guardian., 1901-11-08
ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
rouLIY AssAss1NArED APRIL II, 1865.

is is the remarkable poem which, May g. 1855 Lond,
confessed its error after having for four years ampoon
with pencil and with pen Few doubt that among Amer
,wspapers and public of today who have similarly
esiden Mckinley there many who experience eens
similar to that voiced in Punchs fearful retracon
You lay wreath on murdered Lincolns bier
You, who with mocking pencil wont to trace,
Broad for the sefcompacent British sneer
His length Of shambling limb his furrowed face,
His gaunt, gnared hands, his unkempt bristing hair,
His garb uncouth his bearing i'll at ease
His lack of all we prize as bebonar
Ofpower will to shine Of art to please.
You whose smart pen backed up the pencils laugh
Judging each step, though the way plain:
Reckless so it could point paragraph
OF Chiefs perpexy, peoples pain.
Beside this corpse that bears for winding,sheet
The Stars and Stripes he lived to rear anew
BetweaR atfhie ufh6fs at bis head and feet
Say, scurrirjesass, is there soom for you?
Yes, he had lived to shame hse Hon nv saeer
To lame my pencil and confute my yasjz-- yuoas,n,
To make this hind of princes peer, wss stss
This ral-spter true born king of men. bsa IN 81 tel
My shallow Judgment had learnt to rue
Noting how to OCCASIONS height he rose
How his quaint wit made home-truth seem more true.
How, iron-like his temper grew by blows
How humble yet how hopeful he could be:
How in good fortune and in i'll the same:
Nor bitter in success nor boastful he,
Thirsty for gold, feverish for fame
He went about his work-such work as few
Ever had laid on head and heart and hand
As who knows, where there's task do,
Mans honest will must Heavens good grace command.
Who trusts the strentgh will with the burden grow,
That God makes instruments to work his will,
If but that will we arrive to know
Nor tamper with the weights Of good and ill.
SO he went forth to battle, on the side
That he felt clear was Lberty's and Rights
As in his peasant boyhood he had piled
His warfare with rude natures thwarting nights.
The uncleared forest, the unbroken SOIL
The iron-bark that turns the aborers axe
The rapid that o'erbears the boatman's toll,
The prairie hiding the mazed wanderers tracks
The ambushed Indian and the prowling bear
Such were the needs that helped his youth to train
Rough culture-but such trees large fruit may bear,
If but their stocks be of right girth and grain
So he grew up, destined work to do,
And lived to do it; four long suffering years,
Ill-fate, ill-fortune ill-report lived through,
And then he heard the Kisses change to cheers.
The tauns to tribute the abuse to praise,
And took both with the unwaverng mood
Till as he light from darkling days,
And seemed to touch the goal from where he stood
A felon hand, between the goal and him.
Reached from behind his back, trigger prest-
And those perpexed and patient eyes were dim,
Those gaunt, long laboring limbs were laid to rest
The words of mercy upon his lips,
Forgiveness in his heart and on his pen
When this vile murderer brought swift eclipse
To thoughts of peace EARTH good will to men.
The Old World and the New, from to sea,
Utter voice of sympathy and shame
Sore heart, so stopped when it at last beat hgh
Sad life, cut short just as its triumph
A deed accurs Strokes have been struck before
BY the assassn's hand, whereof men doubt
If more of horror disgrace they bore
But thy foul crime, like Gains, stands darkly out
Vile hand, that brandest murder a strife
Whate'er its grounds, souty and nobly strivcn;
And with the nartYrs crown crownest a life