James Russell Lowell - Abraham Lincoln

Album cover art for "James Russell Lowell - Abraham Lincoln" by Richard Mitchley

Richard Mitchley - Pop

James Russell Lowell - Abraham Lincoln

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Duration: 3:09

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Lyrics

Such was he, our Martyr-Chief Whom late the Nation he had led With ashes on her head Wept with the passion of an angry grief: Forgive me, if from present things I turn To speak what in my heart will beat and burn And hang my wreath on his world-honored urn Nature, they say, doth dote And cannot make a man Save on some worn-out plan Repeating us by rote: For him her Old World moulds aside she threw And, choosing sweet clay from the breast Of the unexhausted West With stuff untainted shaped a hеro new Wise, steadfast in thе strength of God, and true How beautiful to see Once more a shepherd of mankind indeed Who loved his charge, but never loved to lead; One whose meek flock the people joyed to be Not lured by any cheat of birth But by his clear-grained human worth And brave old wisdom of sincerity! They knew that outward grace is dust; They could not choose but trust In that sure-footed mind's unfaltering skill And supple-tempered will That bent like perfect steel to spring again and thrust His was no lonely mountain-peak of mind Thrusting to thin air o'er our cloudy bars A sea-mark now, now lost in vapors blind Broad prairie rather, genial, level-lined Fruitful and friendly for all human kind Yet also nigh to heaven and loved of loftiest stars Nothing of Europe here Or, then, of Europe fronting mornward still Ere any names of Serf and Peer Could Nature's equal scheme deface; Here was a type of the true elder race And one of Plutarch's men talked with us face to face I praise him not; it were too late; And some innative weakness there must be In him who condescends to victory Such as the Present gives, and cannot wait Safe in himself as in a fate So always firmly he: He knew to bide his time And can his fame abide Still patient in his simple faith sublime Till the wise years decide Great captains, with their guns and drums Disturb our judgment for the hour But at last silence comes; These all are gone, and, standing like a tower Our children shall behold his fame The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame New birth of our new soil, the first American

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Credits

Writers
  • James Russell Lowell