The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1902-09-06
30 WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL
re PROUD1

De EnUUU''
Was Abraham Lincoln's favorite poem. even in
the days Of his youth. He clipped 1t from a
newspaper and learned It by heart. and once said
he would give q great deal to know who wrote
Il, but could not ascertain. He afterward learn
ed the authors name. When in appropriate
mood. the President often spoke Of this poem or
recifed II TO consenial associates. The author.
william Knox. was an unfortunate son Of genius.
born IN Roxburg. Scotland. in 1se9. his father
having been a fairly prosperous farmer. The
young man received . classical education at
the University Of Edinburgh. and then under
TOOK farming on HIS own account. but with poor
success. for. even when following the plow. his
mind was constantly bent, like that Of Burns. on
poetic composition. In 1877 he gave up farming.
determined 70 follow . literary career. and pub
lished. about that time. the result Of his poetic
musings on the farm under the title "The Lone
~ Hearth" Sir Walter Scott admired his genius
and invited him 10 Abbotsford. but. as he says.
found Knox "unilt for that kind Of society"
partly owing 70 his dissipated habits. Knox
made a precarious living for few years BY con-
tributions OF prose and poetry to magazines.
often begging = guinea OF Scott. He died In
Edinburgh. ct the age Of 90. in poverty, like
ChattesAsn. He is said to have had lovable
temperament and considerable humor. though
the latter trait does not appear in his poems.
There was much in his character that would
have appealed TO Lincoln.
why should the spirit of mortal be proud2
Like swift -neeting meteor. a fast-fying cloud,
A fash of the lightning. break of the wave,
He passeth from life 70 rest In the grave.
The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
Be scattered around, and together be laid,
AS the young and the old, 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 father that mother and infant who blest-
Each. all, are away to that dwelling of rest.
The maid on whose brow. on whose cheek, in
whose eye
shone the beauty and pleasure-her triumphs
are by;
And the mem'ries of mortals who loved her and
praised
Are alike from the minds of the living erased.
The hand of the king, that the sceptre hath
The brow of the priest, that the mitre hath
worn;
Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.
The peasant, whose lot was to SOW and to reap;
The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up
The besgar, 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 weed,
That withers away to let others succeed;
So the multitude comes even those who behold,
To repeat every tale that has often been told.
For we are the same our fathers have been;
We see the same sights our fathers have seen;
We drink the same stream, we see the same sun,
And run the same course our fathers have run.
The thoughts we are thinking our fathers did
think,
From the death we are shrinking our fathers did
shrink;
To the life we are clinging our fathers did cling,
But it speeds from us all like the bird on the
wing.
They loved-but the glory we cannot unfold;
They scorned-but the heart OF the naughty is
cold;
They grieved-but no wall from their slumbers
They joyed-but the tongue of their gladness is
dumb.
They died-aye. they died-we, things that are
That walk on the turf that lies over their brow,
And make in their dwelling transient abode;
Meet the things that they met on their pilgrim
age road.
Yea, hope ana desponoency. pressure and pam.
And the smile and the tear, the song and the
stin follow each other like surge upon surge.
'Tis the wink of an eye tits the draft of breath
From the blossom of health to the paleness of
death.
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud
o why should the spirit of mortal be proud?