Delaware gazette and state journal. (Wilmington, Del.) 1883-1902, 1902-05-08

Fouily Assassinated, April 14sh, 1856


You lay wreath on murdered Lincoln's
You who, with marking pencil, wont TO
trace,
Broad for the self-complacent British snesr,
His length of stumbling limb, his furrowed
face.
His gaunt, gnarled hand, his unkempt,
bristling hair,
His garb uncouth, his bearing, i'll at ease,
His lack of all we prize as debonair,
OF power or will TO shine, of art TO please
You, whose smart pen backed up the pencils
laugh,
Judging each step as though the way were
plain;
Reckless, so it could point paragraph,
OF chief 8 perplexity or peoples pain.
Beside this corpse, that bears for winding
sheet
The Stars and Stripes he lived to rear
anew, ....
Between the mourners at his head and feet,
Say, scurri jester, is there room for you?
Yes, he has lived to shame me from my
sneer,
To lame my pencil and confute my pen
To make Inc own this kind OF Princess peer,
This rail-splitter true-born king of men.
My shallow Judgment has learned to me,
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
EHow, in good fortune and in ill, the same
Nor bitter in success, nor boastful he,
Thirsty for gold, nor feverish for fame.
He went about his work--such work as few
Ever had laid on head and heart and
hand
As one who knows, where there's task to do.
Mans honest will must heavens good
grace command. "r
Who trusts the strength will with the burden
grow,
That God makes Instruments to work His
will,
If but that will we can 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 Liberty's and
Rights,
As in his peasant boyhood he had piled
His warfare with rude natures thwarting
might.
The uncleared forest, the unbroken soil,
The iron bark that turns the lumberer's
The rapid, that DER bears the boatman's
toll,
The prairie, hiding the mazed wanderer',
tracks.
The ambushed Indian, and the providing
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 an(
grain.
So he grew up destined work to do,
And lived TO do ii; four long suffering
years
Ill-fate, ill-feeling, ill-report lived through
And then be heard the Misses changed Il
cheers.
The taunte to tribute, the abuse to praise,
And took both with the same unwaverin,
mood;
Till, gs he came on light from darklini
And seemed to touch the goal from wher
he stood,
A felon hand, between the goal and him,
Reached from behind his back, trigge
pressed
And those perplexed and patient eyes wer,
dim,
Those gaunt, long laboring limbs wer,
laid TO rest!
The words of mercy we're upon his lips,
Forgiveness in his heart and on his pen,
When this vile murderer brought a swift
eclipse
To thoughts of peace on earth, good will
| to men.
The Old World and he New, from sea t.
| seH,
Utter one voice of sympathy and shame.
Sore heart so stopped when it at last bea
high;
Sad life, cut short just as its triumphl
| came.
A deed accurst Strokes have been strucl
before
BY the Nssassin's hand, whereof men doub
If more OF horror-or disgrace they bore;
But tiny foul crime, like Gains standi
darkly out.
Vile hand, that brandcst murder on a strife
Whatc its grounds, stoutly and nobl,
| striIen
And with the martyrs CROWN crownest {
life
With much 10 praise, little TO he forgiven
| London Punch, April, 1866.