In the private office of President Roosevelt, in the White House, hangs, in the handwriting of its author, a poem by the late Senator John J. Ingalls, of Kansas. The title of the poem is "Opportunity." This framed manuscript and a portrait of President Lincoln are the only objects on the walls of the apartment.
In singular contrast with the favorite poem of Theodore Roosevelt is that of Abraham Lincoln—"Oh, Why Should the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud?" by William Knox. Lincoln cut the poem from a newspaper and committed it to memory. Several years later he said to a friend: "I would give a great deal to know who wrote it, but I have never been able to ascertain." Subsequently he learned that the author was Knox, a Scottish poet, who died in 1825.
OPPORTUNITY.
By the late Senator John J. Ingalls.
Master of human destinies am I!
Fame, love and fortune on my footsteps wait,
Cities and fields I walk: I penetrate
Deserts and seas remote, and passing by
Hovel and mart and palace, soon or late
I knock unbidden, once, at every gate!
If feasting, rise; if sleeping, wake before
I turn away. It is the hour of fate,
And they who follow me reach every state
Mortals desire, and conquer every foe
Save death. But those who doubt or hesitate,
Condemned to failure, penury and woe,
Seek me in vain and ceaselessly implore;
I answer not, and I return—no more.
Oh, Why Should the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud?
BY WILLIAM KNOX.
Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
Man passes from life to his rest in the grave.
The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
Be scattered around and together be laid;
And the young and the old, and the low and the high,
Shall molder to dust and together shall lie.
The infant a mother attended and loved,
The mother that infant's affection who proved,
The husband that mother and infant who blessed,
Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest.