The Natal Day of Lincoln
Son of the Western World! whose heritage
Was the vast prairie and the boundless sky;
Whose callow thoughts with wings untrammeled sought
Free scope for growth denied to Ease and Power,
Naught couldst thou know of place or precedent,
For Freedom's ichor with thy mother's milk
Coursing thy veins, would render thee immune
To Fashion's dictate, or prescriptive creed,
Leaving thy soul unhindered to expand
Like Samuel's in Jehovah's tutelage.
Hail to thy Natal day!
Like all great souls with vision unobscured
Thou wert by Pride unswayed, and so didst tread
The gray and sombre way by Duty marked;
Seeking the springs of Wisdom, unallured
By shallower sources which the witless tempt.
Afar o'er arid plains didst thou behold
An empty sky, and mountains desolate
Barring thy way to fairer scenes beyond;
But faith was thine, and patience measureless,
Making thee equal to thy destiny.
Hail to thy Natal day!
It summons to our vision all thy life,
Of strenuous toil; the cabin low and rude;
The meagre fare; the blazing logs whose glow
Illumed the pages of inspired bards,
Shakespeare and Bunyan; prophets, priests and seers;
The darkling forest where thy ringing axe
Chimed with the music of the waterfall;
The eager flood bearing thy rugged raft
Swift footed through an ever changing world
Unknown to thee save in remembered dreams.
Hail to thy Natal day!
We see thee in the mart where Selfishness
For Fame ephemeral strives, and sordid gain;
Thy ill-requited toil till thou hadst earned
The right to raise thy potent voice within
A nation's forum, facing all the world;
And then, achievement such as few have known,
A mighty people placing in thy hand
A sceptre swaying half a continent,
Making thee peer of kings and potentates;
Aye, greater than them all, whate'er their power.
Hail to thy Natal day!
But, lo! the martial camp; the bivouac;
The rude entrenchment;—the grim fortalice;
The tented field;—the flaming battle line,
And thy great soul amidst it all unmoved
By petty aims, leading with flawless faith
Thy people to a promised land of peace;
And, then, when thou hadst reached the goal of hope,
And the world stood amazed, the heavy crown
Of martyrdom was pressed upon thy brow
And thy immortal course was consummate.
Hail to thy Natal day!
In all great souls God sows with generous hand
The seed of martyrdom, for 'twas decreed
In Eden, that alone by sacrifice
Should sons of men the crown immortal win;
And thou, who didst the shining heights attain
Of unsurpassed achievement, didst but pay
The impartial toll of souls like thine required.
And we, who on the narrow marge of Time
Standing wondering, shed no tears, but raise to thee
The pæans to a martyred hero due,
Hail to thy Natal day.
MONUMENT TO THE MOTHER OF LINCOLN
Nancy Hanks Lincoln died October 5, 1818, aged thirty-five years. The design of this monument is by Thompson Stickle, and it was constructed by J. S. Culver of Springfield, Illinois, and dedicated October 2, 1902.
In the construction of the monument in Spencer County, Indiana, Mr. Culver used as much of the granite as possible from the National Lincoln Monument before it was reconstructed.
The face of this block is handsomely hand-carved. As the Scroll of Time unrolls, it reveals the name of "Nancy Hanks Lincoln." The ivy represents affection and the branch of oak nobility.
The public celebration of the centenary of Lincoln's birth was held in the town of North Adams, Massachusetts, February 12, 1909.
Ex-Senator Thomas F. Cassidy, in his address, said: "One hundred years ago today, in Hardin County, Kentucky, there was ushered into being the child, Abraham Lincoln.
"As God selected Mary, the humble girl of Judea, to be the mother of the Saviour of mankind and she gave birth to Him in the stable at Bethlehem, so it top was ordained that in the lowly log cabin of the Kentucky wilderness, Nancy Hanks should receive into the protection of her sheltering arms the child who was destined to be the Saviour of the Republic."
Harriet Monroe, born at Chicago, Illinois, December, 23, 1860. Graduated Visitation Academy, Georgetown, District Columbia, 1879. In December, 1889, was appointed to write text for cantata for opening of Chicago Auditorium in March, 1891. Was requested by Committee on Ceremonies of Chicago Exposition to write a poem for the dedication; her Columbia Ode was read and sung at the dedicatory ceremonies on the 400th anniversary of the discovery of America, October 21, 1892. Author of Valerie, and other poems, 1892; The Columbia Ode, 1893; John Wellborn, Poet, A Memoir, 1896; The Passing Show—Modern Plays in Verse, 1903, etc.