Page:Poems Kimball.djvu/284

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ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
1865.

REST, rest for him whose noble work is done;
For him who led us gently unaware
Till we were readier to do and dare
For Freedom, and her hundred fields were won.

His march is ended where his march began:
More sweet his sleep for toil and sacrifice
And that rare wisdom whose beginning lies
In fear of God and charity for man:

And sweetest for the tender faith that grew
More strong in trial, and through doubt more clear,
Seeing in clouds and darkness One appear
In whose dread name the Nation's sword he drew.

Rest, rest for him; and rest for us to-day
Whose sorrow shook the land from east to west
When slain by Treason, on the Nation's breast
Her martyr breathed his steadfast soul away.

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