Death Of President Lincoln.

A poem by Nora Pembroke

In the Capitol is mourning,
Mourning and woe this day,
For a nation's heart is throbbing--
A great man has passed away

It was yester'even only
Rejoicing wild and high,
Waving flags and shouting people
Proclaimed a victory

For our God had led our armies,
In the cause of truth and right,
It was, therefore, the brave Southren
Had bowed to Northern might.

Then flashed o'er the land the tidings,
The flush of joy to quell,
Fallen is the people's hero,
As William the Silent fell.

The stealthy step of the panther,
The tiger's cruel eye;
A flash--and the wail of a nation
Rang in that terrified cry.

Shame falls on the daring Southren,
Woe on the Southren land,
The stars and bars are quartered
With the murderer's bloody hand

Well--he stood to his duty firmly,
Rebellion's waves rolled high,
He dared to be true and simple
To battle a gilded lie

And the life has died out of treason,
Died with oppression and wrong,
The shame is wiped from the nation
Worn as a jewel so long

But he, in the hour of triumph
Who wise and firmly stood
Planning for them large mercies,
Lies weltering in his blood.

For a cause so vile meet ending,
To set with a murder stain,
The "sum of human villainy"
Should die with the brand of Cain

Lay him down with a nation's weeping,
Lay him down with the heart's deep prayer
That the mantle of the martyr
Fall on the vacant chair

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