Oh, slow to smit and swift to spare, <br />Gentle and merciful and just! <br />Who, in the fear of God, didst bear <br />The sword of power, a nation's trust! <br /> <br />In sorrow by thy bier we stand, <br />Amid the awe that hushes all, <br />And speak the anguish of a land <br />That shook with horror at thy fall. <br /> <br />Thy task is done; the bond of free; <br />We bear thee to an honored grave, <br />Whose proudest monument shall be <br />The broken fetters of the slave. <br /> <br />Pure was thy life; its bloddy close <br />Hath placed thee with the sons of light, <br />Among the noble host of those <br />Who perished in the cause of Right.<br /><br />William Cullen Bryant<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-death-of-lincoln/
