The Poets' Lincoln - novelonlinefull.com
You’re read light novel The Poets' Lincoln Part 12 online at NovelOnlineFull.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit NovelOnlineFull.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
[Ill.u.s.tration: EMANc.i.p.aTION GROUP]
Moses Kimball, a citizen of Boston, presented to the city a duplicate of the Freedman's Memorial Statue erected in Lincoln Park, Washington, D. C., after a design by Thomas Ball. The group, which stands in Park Square, represents the figure of a slave from whose limbs the broken fetters have fallen, kneeling in grat.i.tude at the feet of Lincoln. The verses which follow were written for the unveiling of the statue, December 9, 1879.
John Greenleaf Whittier, born December 17, 1807, in Haverhill, Ma.s.sachusetts. He lived on a farm until he reached the age of eighteen, working a little at shoemaking and also writing poetry for the _Haverhill Gazette_. Later he became editor of a number of papers, and his poems in after life were full of patriotism and the love of human freedom, all of which attained a strong hold on the hearts of the people. He would have prevented war, if possible, with honor, but when war came he wrote in support of the Union cause, displaying no bitterness, and when the conflict was over he was most liberal and conciliatory. He was one of the most popular of poets. He died September 7, 1892.
THE EMANc.i.p.aTION GROUP
Amidst thy sacred effigies Of old renown give place, O city. Freedom-loved! to his Whose hand unchained a race.
Take the worn frame, that rested not Save in a martyr's grave; The care-lined face, that none forgot, Bent to the kneeling slave.
Let man be free! The mighty word He spoke was not his own; An impulse from the Highest stirred These chiseled lips alone.
The cloudy sign, the fiery guide, Along his pathway ran, And Nature, through his voice, denied The ownership of man.
We rest in peace where these sad eyes Saw peril, strife, and pain; His was the Nation's sacrifice, And ours the priceless gain.
O symbol of G.o.d's will on earth As it is done above Bear witness to the cost and worth Of justice and of love!
Stand in thy place and testify To coming ages long, That truth is stronger than a lie, And righteousness than wrong.
[Ill.u.s.tration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1863]
Theron Brown, born at Willimantic, Connecticut, April 29, 1832.
Graduated at Hartford Theological Seminary in 1858; Newton Theological Inst.i.tution, 1859. Ordained in Baptist Ministry, 1859; Pastor South Framingham, Ma.s.sachusetts, 1859-62; Canton, Ma.s.sachusetts, 1863-70; on staff _Youth's Companion_ since 1870. Author various juvenile stories; _Life Songs_ (poems), 1894; _Nameless Women of the Bible_, 1904; _The Story of the Hymns and Tunes_, 1907; _Under the Mulberry Tree_ (a novel), 1909; _The Birds of G.o.d_, 1911. He died February 14, 1914.
THE LIBERATOR
When, scornful of a nation's rest, The angry horns of Discord blew There came a giant from the West, And found a giant's work to do.
He saw, in sorrow--and in wrath-- A mighty empire in its strait, Torn like a planet in its path To warring hemisphere of hate.
Between the thunder-clouds he stood; He harked to Ruin's battle-drum, And cried in patriot hardihood, "Why do I wait? My hour has come!
"Was it my fate, my lot, my woe To be the Ruler of the land, Nor own my oath that long ago I swore upon this heart and hand?
"That vow, like barb from bowman's string, Shall pierce sedition's secret plea: G.o.d grant the bloodless blow shall sting Till brother's quarrels cease to be!
"Should once the sudden wound provoke New strife in anger's zone The clash may be the penal stroke That makes a new Republic one."
He wrote his Message--clear as light, And bolder than a king's command-- And when war's whirlwinds spent their might There was no bondman in the land.
[Ill.u.s.tration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
Photograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C., January 24, 1863]
TO PRESIDENT LINCOLN
_January 1, 1863_
Lincoln, that with thy steadfast truth the sand Of men and time and circ.u.mstance dost sway!
The slave-cloud dwindles on this golden day, And over all the pestilent southern land, Breathless, the dark expectant millions stand, To watch the northern sun rise on its way, Cleaving the stormy distance--every ray Sword-bright, sword-sharp, in G.o.d's invisible hand.
Better with this great end, partial defeat, And jibings of the ignorant worldly-wise, Than laud and triumph won with shameful blows.
The dead Past lies in its dead winding-sheet; The living Present droops with tearful eyes; But far beyond the awaiting Future glows.
_Edmund Ollier, in London (Eng.) Morning Star._
[Ill.u.s.tration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C.]
Charles G. Foltz was born at West Winfield, Herkimer County, New York, September 9, 1837. His parents were Benjamin Foltz, a Presbyterian clergyman, and Jane Harwood Foltz. In 1846 the family moved to Cuyahoga County, Ohio. In 1849 to Wisconsin, first to Rock County, then to Walworth County, and in 1854 to Burlington, Racine County, where he has since resided.
ON FREEDOM'S SUMMIT
On freedom's summit, Oh, how grand Stood Lincoln ruler of our land, As he issued the sublime command Let the enslaved be free.
Ere long he saw the Bondmen rise; Ere long as Freedmen seize the prize, The precious boon of liberty.
A backward glance he cast Into the valley of the past, Amid the shade and gloom Discerning slavery's tomb.