President Lincoln's Funeral.
That the land he loved will miss him,
Does she either think or care?
No! the chieftain's heart is shrouded,
And her woman's world was there:
No! the nation was her rival;
Let its glory shine or dim,
He hath perished on its altar—
What were many such to him?
Does she either think or care?
No! the chieftain's heart is shrouded,
And her woman's world was there:
No! the nation was her rival;
Let its glory shine or dim,
He hath perished on its altar—
What were many such to him?
Toll! Toll!
Toll! Toll!
Never again—no more—
Comes back to earth the life that goes
Hence to the Eden shore!
Toll! Toll!
Never again—no more—
Comes back to earth the life that goes
Hence to the Eden shore!
Let him rest!—it is not often
That his soul hath known repose;
Let him rest!—they rest but seldom
Whose successes challenge foes.
He was weary—worn with watching;
His life-crown of power hath pressed
Oft on temples sadly aching—
He was weary, let him rest.
Toll, bells at the Capital!
Bells of the land, toll!
Sob out your grief with brazen lungs—
Toll! toll! toll!
That his soul hath known repose;
Let him rest!—they rest but seldom
Whose successes challenge foes.
He was weary—worn with watching;
His life-crown of power hath pressed
Oft on temples sadly aching—
He was weary, let him rest.
Toll, bells at the Capital!
Bells of the land, toll!
Sob out your grief with brazen lungs—
Toll! toll! toll!
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