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1865
THE DEATH OF LINCOLN
by William Cullen Bryant
THE DEATH OF LINCOLN -
Oh, slow to smite and swift to spare,
Gentle and merciful and just!
Who, in the fear of God, didst bear
The sword of power, a nation's trust! -
In sorrow by thy bier we stand,
Amid the awe that hushes all,
And speak the anguish of a land
That shook with horror at thy fall. -
Thy task is done; the bond are free:
We bear thee to an honored grave,
Whose Proudest monument shall be
The broken fetters of the slave. -
Pure was thy life; its bloody close
Hath placed thee with the sons of light,
Among the noble host of those
Who perished in the cause of Right. - -
THE END