A Memory of Eighteen Hundred Sixty Five a Tribute to Abraham Lincoln
A Memory of Eighteen Hundred Sixty Five a Tribute to Abraham Lincoln
Julia Carter Aldrich
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Lincoln dead! 0, crushing blow! A seething chaos then before the vision whirled; Our Country, stricken, struggling with benumbing woe, Must face the proud, deriding kingdoms of the world; Rebellion, masked, had wreaked its most attrocious crime: Thru murderous plot was Liberty again betrayed — The Nation's joy was paralyzed in this brief time — The Union, stabbed, in deepest mourning was arrayed. From lowest cottage thatch to palace turret high, The mourning emblems, swaying, told the Country's... woe; The soft Spring breeze seemed Nature's sorrow-laden sigh While flowers poured their precious oils with lavish flow. In mart and port torn battle-flags half masted hung, Near fields with victory's gore yet red upon the sod; Such agony could form no prayer for human tongue— The spfrit cried — "Hast thou Forgotten us Oh, God!" As brass the Heavens above us seemed — God veiled his face, And helpless we must grope, so weighted with our loss, For none in all the land had wisdom for the place, That he had filled — now upon the martyr's cross.
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