And cause its folds once more to wave
Where vile Secession found its grave;
When Lincoln, freed from carking care,
Some leisure hours might hope to share;
To realise fair freedom’s cause,
And taste its fruits—a just applause;—
It cannot be!—’tis but a dream,
To cloud bright hope’s translucent beam!
An effort vain to turn aside
Attention from fair pleasure’s tide!—