The National tribune., 1910-05-19
Abraham lincoln. q.
(By H. John Beekwiths'


(By H. John BeekwithsJ
The air is rent with bursting bombs and
shells,
And red the sky with waited camp
fires glow, J. ~.
While strong mems blood is crying from
Ger lea and woldT rings out the
trumpet's blow. 1f
Deserted are the honiesteads,| 'bare the
fields: -
But still-with tollihg. bells fer those
New men, new fighting blood The coun-
try yields, "a .-
For war is on-a war but blood can
quell.
The roar has ceased. and peace and
stiffness fall at last.
From out the blood kissed sod young
bluegrass springs;
And dawn of day is breaking from the
war-torn past,
And time is hiding death wounds
meath its wings.
But once year the drumsticks sound
again
A roll upon the wardrums of the
past,
Unheard by living ears. But in the
vast
And silent cemeteries of the slain
The call is heard. and from each grave,
Out of the kingdom of the hero-dead
There comes the sound of time-kept
tread,
In volume swelling like a mighty wave.
Again the trumpets call, and from the
wall
OF capitols the standards disappear.
The shadow forms are gath'ring far
and near,
In rag-worn uniforms in line they fall.
And in the Winter mornings gray, chill
sheen
They march once more-from out of
The Blue and Gray. till face to face
They meet with but single grave be-
tween.
The rusty guns are fired in salute.
The standards slowly lowered to the
ground;
But from the somber shadows not a
sound
AS silently they pay their mute tribute
And then old-across that grave
Where meet again the Blue and Gray
Two armies in their full array,
The South, the North, the free-bought
slave
The hands are clasped no longer foes,
But brothers of the land of free,
The land Of Grant the land of Lee,
One Nation strong-born from it's woes
And as they stand there hand in hand
The million heroes, young and old.
Out of that grave, from out the cold
And frost-bound sod in Dixie Land,
A form appears SO gaunt and tall
A war-scourged Nations sorrow
Furrowed deep upon his brow,
He stands there towering over ALL
That million-part but of the price
r.,s. Il Il
1mmeasurable as the sunset peace in
West.
Shines from his deep-set, steel-blue
eyes
An ill-dressed. awkward. haggard form:
The man who weighed the loss as
well the gain,
Who knew the million would not die
in vain; ~
The man who saw the sun behind the
And as he stands there in the dawn of
day
And as they greet him with the cry
of pam
In peace; God Rlsss yon Father
Abraham"
A smile like sunshine DER a. a. ripping
Glides Ger the sadhfsg of h.,sshaggard
His hands are raised towards the
skies of blue: "a IS
"Oh. God, behold ii has c3ine tr;le,
out of the graves in2xtficaDle maze =.
Thou heard the cry: tIeir nves they
gave
That stronger might my country rise
upon Their grave.
That was my hope. my dream. my con-
ISOLATION,
And. 10, the dream fulfilled! Behold
the greatest Nation,"
As long as lips shall sing
The praise shall ring
From shore to shore
OF Lincoln, hut-born, poor. as Christ of
yore.
No land on earth no history nor fic-
tion ever bred
a purer, stronger, ncblar man, whose
martyr blood was shed;
Whose soul did weep al Ike with friend
and foe;
Who bore deep in his heart a Nations
bleeding Woe
Dark was his dawn, and darker still his
day, Z
But God himself had nodded soul and
clay.