The Poets' Lincoln Part 4

Rev. George W. Crofts was born at Leroy, Illinois, April 9, 1842. He was educated at the Illinois State University at Springfield, graduating in the cla.s.s of 1864. He was ordained to the ministry in 1865. He preached at Sandwich, Illinois; Council Bluffs, Iowa; Beatrice, Nebraska, and West Point. He died at West Point, May 16, 1909.

THE BIRTH OF LINCOLN

No choir celestial sang at Lincoln's birth, No transient star illumined the midnight sky In honor of some ancient prophecy, No augury was given from heaven or earth.

He blossomed like a flower of wondrous worth, A rare, sweet flower of heaven that ne'er should die, Altho' the vase in which it grew should lie Most rudely rent amid the darkling dearth.

There, in that humble cabin, separate From everything the world regarded great, Where wealth had never pressed its greedy feet, Where honor, pomp or fame found no retreat; E'en there was born beneath the eye of G.o.d The n.o.blest man His footstool ever trod.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mendelssohn Darwin Lincoln]

MENDELSSOHN DARWIN LINCOLN

_February 12, 1809_

Clarence E. Carr, born in Enfield, New Hampshire, January 31, 1853.

Received his early education from the common schools and academies of the State, later from Dartmouth College, from which he graduated in 1875.

Practiced law, was also a manufacturer and farmer. Was president of the New Hampshire Unitarian Conference, director and vice-president of the American Unitarian a.s.sociation, bank trustee, president of the United Life and Accident Insurance Company of Concord, New Hampshire, and occasionally a wanderer in the Elysian Fields of the Muses.

_The Three Birthday Anniversaries_ is the subject of a highly appreciative article on the subject of Mendelssohn, Darwin and Lincoln, by President Samuel A. Eliot of the American Unitarian a.s.sociation, in the _Christian Register_ of February 4, 1909. The central thought therein is thus expressed very beautifully by Mr. Carr.

Three lives this day unto the world were given Into whose souls G.o.d breathed the air of heaven,-- The first He taught the music of the spheres, The next, of worlds, the story of the years; And, loving, wise, and just beyond our dream, The third a pilot made upon the New World's stream.

Their work is done, but ere they crossed "the portal,"

One, Song; One, Truth; One, Freedom; Made Immortal!

James Phinney Baxter, born at Gorham Maine, March 23, 1831. Academic education; President of Savings Bank; Mayor of Portland, six terms, 1893-97--1904-5. Organized a.s.sociated Charities and was its first President; built and donated to the City of Portland its public library in 1888, and to Gorham in 1907; also conveyed to Gorham his family mansion for use as a Museum. President Portland Public Library, Baxter Library (Gorham), Portland Benevolent Society, Overseer of Bowdoin College, President Maine Historical Society since 1890, Northeast Historical Society since 1899. Author: _The Trelawney Papers_, 1884; _The British Invasion From the North_, 1887; _Sir Ferdinando Gorges and His Province of Maine_, 1890; _The Pioneers of New France in New England_, 1894; edited ten volumes of _Doc.u.mentary History of Maine_, etc.

THE NATAL DAY OF LINCOLN

Son of the Western World! whose heritage Was the vast prairie and the boundless sky; Whose callow thoughts with wings untrammeled sought Free scope for growth denied to Ease and Power, Naught couldst thou know of place or precedent, For Freedom's ichor with thy mother's milk Coursing thy veins, would render thee immune To Fashion's dictate, or prescriptive creed, Leaving thy soul unhindered to expand Like Samuel's in Jehovah's tutelage.

Hail to thy Natal day!

Like all great souls with vision un.o.bscured Thou wert by Pride unswayed, and so didst tread The gray and sombre way by Duty marked; Seeking the springs of Wisdom, unallured By shallower sources which the witless tempt.

Afar o'er arid plains didst thou behold An empty sky, and mountains desolate Barring thy way to fairer scenes beyond; But faith was thine, and patience measureless, Making thee equal to thy destiny.

Hail to thy Natal day!

It summons to our vision all thy life, Of strenuous toil; the cabin low and rude; The meagre fare; the blazing logs whose glow Illumed the pages of inspired bards, Shakespeare and Bunyan; prophets, priests and seers; The darkling forest where thy ringing axe Chimed with the music of the waterfall; The eager flood bearing thy rugged raft Swift footed through an ever changing world Unknown to thee save in remembered dreams.

Hail to thy Natal day!

We see thee in the mart where Selfishness For Fame ephemeral strives, and sordid gain; Thy ill-requited toil till thou hadst earned The right to raise thy potent voice within A nation's forum, facing all the world; And then, achievement such as few have known, A mighty people placing in thy hand A sceptre swaying half a continent, Making thee peer of kings and potentates; Aye, greater than them all, whate'er their power.

Hail to thy Natal day!

But, lo! the martial camp; the bivouac; The rude entrenchment;--the grim fortalice; The tented field;--the flaming battle line, And thy great soul amidst it all unmoved By petty aims, leading with flawless faith Thy people to a promised land of peace; And, then, when thou hadst reached the goal of hope, And the world stood amazed, the heavy crown Of martyrdom was pressed upon thy brow And thy immortal course was consummate.

Hail to thy Natal day!

In all great souls G.o.d sows with generous hand The seed of martyrdom, for 'twas decreed In Eden, that alone by sacrifice Should sons of men the crown immortal win; And thou, who didst the shining heights attain Of unsurpa.s.sed achievement, didst but pay The impartial toll of souls like thine required.

And we, who on the narrow marge of Time Standing wondering, shed no tears, but raise to thee The paeans to a martyred hero due, Hail to thy Natal day.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MONUMENT TO THE MOTHER OF LINCOLN]

Nancy Hanks Lincoln died October 5, 1818, aged thirty-five years. The design of this monument is by Thompson Stickle, and it was constructed by J. S. Culver of Springfield, Illinois, and dedicated October 2, 1902.

In the construction of the monument in Spencer County, Indiana, Mr.

Culver used as much of the granite as possible from the National Lincoln Monument before it was reconstructed.

The face of this block is handsomely hand-carved. As the Scroll of Time unrolls, it reveals the name of "Nancy Hanks Lincoln." The ivy represents affection and the branch of oak n.o.bility.

The public celebration of the centenary of Lincoln's birth was held in the town of North Adams, Ma.s.sachusetts, February 12, 1909.

Ex-Senator Thomas F. Ca.s.sidy, in his address, said: "One hundred years ago today, in Hardin County, Kentucky, there was ushered into being the child, Abraham Lincoln.

"As G.o.d selected Mary, the humble girl of Judea, to be the mother of the Saviour of mankind and she gave birth to Him in the stable at Bethlehem, so it was ordained that in the lowly log cabin of the Kentucky wilderness, Nancy Hanks should receive into the protection of her sheltering arms the child who was destined to be the Saviour of the Republic."

Harriet Monroe, born at Chicago, Illinois, December, 23, 1860.

Graduated Visitation Academy, Georgetown, District Columbia, 1879. In December, 1889, was appointed to write text for cantata for opening of Chicago Auditorium in March, 1891. Was requested by Committee on Ceremonies of Chicago Exposition to write a poem for the dedication; her _Columbia Ode_ was read and sung at the dedicatory ceremonies on the 400th anniversary of the discovery of America, October 21, 1892.

Author of _Valerie_, and other poems, 1892; _The Columbia Ode_, 1893; _John Wellborn, Poet, A Memoir_, 1896; _The Pa.s.sing Show--Modern Plays in Verse_, 1903, etc.

NANCY HANKS

Prairie Child, Brief as dew, What winds of wonder Nourished you?

Rolling plain Of billowy green, Fair horizons, Blue, serene.

Lofty skies The slow clouds climb, Where burning stars Beat out the time.

These, and the dreams Of fathers bold, Baffled longings Hopes untold.

Gave to you A heart of fire, Love like waters, Brave desire.

Ah, when youth's rapture Went out in pain, And all seemed over, Was all in vain?