And there his countrymen shall come,
With memory proud, with pity dumb,
And strangers far and near,
For many and many a year.
For many a year and many an age,
While History on her ample page
The virtues shall enroll
Of that Paternal Soul.
Richard Henry Stoddard.
During those twenty days, the one thought uppermost in men's minds was the martyred President. The desire for vengeance alternated with grief. It was generally believed that the conspiracy had been concocted by the Confederate authorities, and magnanimity toward a beaten foe gave place to hatred.
PARRICIDE
ABRAHAM LINCOLN—APRIL 14, 1865
O'er the warrior gauntlet grim
Late the silken glove we drew,
Bade the watch-fires slacken dim
In the dawn's auspicious hue.
Stayed the armèd heel;
Stilled the clanging steel;
Joys unwonted thrilled the silence through.
Glad drew near the Easter tide;
And the thoughts of men anew
Turned to Him who spotless died
For the peace that none shall rue.
Out of mortal pain
This abiding strain
Issued: "Peace, my peace, I give to you."
Musing o'er the silent strings,
By their apathy opprest,
Waiting for the spirit wings,
To be touched and soul-possessed,
"I am dull," I said:
"[Treason is not dead];
Still in ambush lurks that shivering guest."
Then a woman's shriek of fear
Smote us in its arrowy flight;
And a wonder wild and drear
Did the hearts of men unite.
Has the seed of crime
Reached its flowering-time,
That it shoots to this audacious height?