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Only a baby, fair and small, Like many another baby son, Whose smiles and tears came swift at call, Who ate, and slept, and grew, that's all,-- The infant Abe Lincoln.
Only a boy like other boys, With many a task, but little fun, Fond of his books, though few he had, By his good mother's death made sad,-- The little Abe Lincoln.
Only a lad, awkward and shy, Skilled in handling an ax or gun, Mastering knowledge that, by and by, Should aid him in duties great and high,-- The youthful Abe Lincoln.
Only a man of finest bent, A splendid man: a Nation's son, Rail-splitter, Lawyer, President, Who served his country and died content,-- The patriot, Abe Lincoln.
Only--ah! what was the secret, then, Of his being America's honored son? Why was he famed above other men, His name upon every tongue and pen,-- The illustrious Abe Lincoln?
A mighty brain, a will to endure, Kind to all, though a slave to none, A heart that was brave, and strong, and sure, A soul that was noble, and great, and pure, A faith in God that was held secure,-- This was Abraham Lincoln.
[A] With apologies to the unknown writer of the pretty poem Washington, of which this is an adaptation.--Editor.
He tells the grandest tales to me, Of battles that he fought; Of how he marched, and how he charged, And how that he got shot.
My papa was a soldier, too; No battles was he in, And when I ask him, "Why?", he laughs And "guesses" he "was tin."
I've tried to understand their talk, And b'lieve I have it right: My grandpa licked so many, there Were none for pa to fight.
We talked of kings, little Ned and I, As we sat in the firelight's glow; Of Alfred the Great, in days gone by, And his kingdom of long ago.
Of Norman William, who, brave and stern, His armies to victory led. Then, after a pause, "At school we learn Of another great man," said Ned.
"And this one was good to the oppressed, He was gentle and brave, and so Wasn't he greater than all the rest? 'Twas Abraham Lincoln, you know."
"Was Lincoln a king?" I asked him then, And in waiting for his reply A long procession of noble men Seemed to pass in the firelight by.
When "No" came slowly from little Ned, And thoughtfully; then, with a start, "He wasn't a king--_outside_," he said, "But I think he was in his heart."
Be as truthful, as unselfish; Be as pure, as good, as kind; Be as honest; never flatter; Give to God your heart and mind.
Seek not praise, but do your duty, Love the right and work for it; Then the world will be the better Because you have lived in it.
[B] From Lincoln and Washington, by Marian M. George and Lydia Avery Coonley. Copyrighted and published by A. Flanagan Company. Price, twenty-five cents.
I've heard the beautiful stories Of Lincoln so great and so good. He helped all people in trouble, And their grief so well understood; To many sad tales he listened, Of heart-broken mothers and wives; And pausing 'mid all his worries, Once more he brought hope to their lives.
Dearer than all other stories, Is this little one of the day When he, with his friends, was riding On horseback along the roadway; There, in the dust, by a tree, he found One little bird, then another, From their nest the wind had blown them, And he was hunting for their mother.
When at last he found the nest, and In it the birdies laid, 'Mid the party's merry laughter His heart was glad, his manner grave: "Seems to me," he said, "I couldn't Tonight in bed with ease have slept Had I left those creatures suffer And not restored them to their nest."
Wonderful heart; ever tender-- Tender, yet just, with the rest. I think among all the stories, This shows his true nature the best.
My Grandpa was a soldier. They tell about the day He said his very last good-by and bravely marched away, With flying flags and bayonets all gleaming in the sun. They never saw him march back when all the war was done.
They brought him here and laid him where I can always bring The very brightest flowers that blossom in the spring; But sweeter far than flowers, as every one can tell, Is the memory of the soldiers who loved their country well.
I wish I could be like him--to try with all my might And do my loyal service for honor and for right And victory and glory! But children now, you know, Have never any chance at all to war against a foe.
And as I think upon it, the best that we can do To show our love and honor for a hero brave and true, Is to resolve together always to be brave, To live our very noblest in the land he died to save.
'Mid the names that fate has written On the deathless scroll of fame, We behold the name of Lincoln, Shining like a living flame.
'Mid the deeds the world remembers, (Deeds by dauntless heroes done), We behold the deeds of Lincoln, Blazing like a brilliant sun.
'Mid the lives whose light illumines History's dark and dreadful page, We behold the life of Lincoln, Lighting up an awful age.
When the storm of peril threatened His loved land to overwhelm, Safe the ship of state he guided, With his hand upon the helm.
Statesman, ruler, hero, martyr-- Fitting names for him, I say, Wherefore, let us all as brothers, Love his memory today.
'TIS SPLENDID TO LIVE SO GRANDLY[C]
'Tis splendid to live so grandly That, long after you are gone, The things you did are remembered, And recounted under the sun; To live so bravely and purely That a nation stops on its way, And once a year, with banner and drum, Keeps the thoughts of your natal day.
'Tis splendid to have a record, So white and free from stain, That, held to the light, it shows no blot, Though tested and tried again; That age to age forever Repeats its story of love, And your birthday lives in a nation's heart All other days above.
And this is our Lincoln's glory, A steadfast soul and true, Who stood for his country's union, When his country called him to. And now that we once more are one, And our flag of stars is flung To the breeze in defiant challenge, His name is on every tongue.
Yes, it's splendid to live so bravely, To be so great and strong, That your memory is ever a tocsin To rally the foes of the wrong; To live so proudly and purely That your people pause in their way, And year by year, with banner and drum, Keep the thoughts of your natal day.
[C] Adapted by the editor from the author's excellent tribute to Washington. The poem is equally true to the character and work of Lincoln as well as the love for him.
But, grander by far the vision Modern annals unclose: Through the burning streets of Richmond Walks Lincoln 'mong his foes.
Though no pride of state surrounds him, On every side we hear: "Foh Marsa Linkum, bress de Lawd." "De Sabiour now am near."
"O, honey chile, jes' tech him once!" "Suah heben is 'mos' nigh." "I's on de mount, O, Gawd, I is." "Dis niggah now kin die."
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