Dead, and the day's work still undone, Dead, and war's ruining heart athrob, And earth with fields of carnage freshly spreadMillions died fighting, But in this man we mourned Those millions, and one other And the States to-day uniting, North and South, East and West, Speak with a people's mouth A rhapsody of rest To him our beloved best, Our big, gaunt, homely brother Our huge Atlantic coast-storm in a shawl, Who knew and loved us all With love more eloquent Than his own words-with Love that in real deeds Oh, to pour love through deeds To be as Lincoln was! That all the land might fill its daily needs Glorified by a human Cause! Then were America a vast World-Torch Flaming a faith across the dying Earth, O living God, O Thou who living art, And real, and near, draw, as at that babe's birth, Into our souls and sanctify our Earth- As mothers and fathers of our own Lincoln-child- mild, That we may day by day Rear this wild blossom through its soft petals of clay; That hour by hour We may endow it with more human power Than is our own— That it may reach the goal Our Lincoln long has shown! O Child, flesh of our flesh, bone of our bone, Soul torn from out our Soul! May you be great, and pure, and beautiful— A Soul to search this world To be a father, brother, comrade, son, A toiler powerful; A man whose toil is done One with God's Law above: Work wrought through Love! NIGHT NOTE A little moon was restless in Eternity And, shivering beneath the stars, Dropped in the hiding arms of the western hill. Night's discord ceased: The visible universe moved in an endless rhythm: The wheel of the heavens turned to the pulse of a cricket in the grass. Alice Corbin Alice Corbin (Mrs. William Penhallow Henderson) was born in St. Louis, Missouri. She has been Associate Editor of Poetry; A Magazine of Verse since 1912, co-editing (with Harriet Monroe) The New Poetry, An Anthology (1917). Since 1916 she has lived in New Mexico. The Spinning Woman of the Sky (1912) contains few hints of originality. It is cast in an entirely different key than Miss Corbin's later efforts. Her recent verses, many of them uncollected, are much richer; they reveal a close contact with primitive people and native folk-lore. Her southern and far western sketches are particularly colorful; a volume of New Mexico studies, Red Earth (1920), being full of noteworthy and sympathetic records. UNCLE JIM ECHOES OF CHILDHOOD (A Folk-Medley) Old Uncle Jim was as blind as a mole, Down the middle and swing yo' partners, Shake yo' foot an' keep a-goin', Down the middle an' do-se-do! Mind yo' manners an' doan git keerless, S'lute yo' partner an' turn yo' neighbor, DELPHY Delphy's breast was wide and deep, Swing low, sweet chariot, swing low; On lazy tropic seas afloat, Swing low, sweet chariot, swing low. Delphy, when my mother died, Taught me wisdom, curbed my pride, MANDY'S BETSY'S BOY I'se got religion an' I doan care An' I th'ew de wash up inter de air, Betsy's boy could shuffle and clog, Till he started to dance-and you saw his face! It was all lit up like a mask of bronze |