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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535104" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>President Lincoln's Burial Hymn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom'd</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> WHEN lilacs last in the door-yard bloom'd,<br> And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,<br> I mourn'd--and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O ever-returning spring! trinity sure to me you bring;<br> Lilac blooming perennial, and drooping star in the west,<br> And thought of him I love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O powerful, western, fallen star!<br> O shades of night! O moody, tearful night!<br> O great star disappear'd! O the black murk that hides the star!<br> O cruel hands that hold me powerless! O helpless soul of me! 10<br> O harsh surrounding cloud, that will not free my soul!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> In the door-yard fronting an old farm-house, near the white-wash'd<br> palings,<br> Stands the lilac bush, tall-growing, with heart-shaped leaves of rich<br> green,<br> With many a pointed blossom, rising, delicate, with the perfume<br> strong I love,<br> With every leaf a miracle......and from this bush in the door-yard,<br> With delicate-color'd blossoms, and heart-shaped leaves of rich<br> green,<br> A sprig, with its flower, I break.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> In the swamp, in secluded recesses,<br> A shy and hidden bird is warbling a song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Solitary, the thrush,   20<br> The hermit, withdrawn to himself, avoiding the settlements,<br> Sings by himself a song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Song of the bleeding throat!<br> Death's outlet song of life--(for well, dear brother, I know<br> If thou wast not gifted to sing, thou would'st surely die.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Over the breast of the spring, the land, amid cities,<br> Amid lanes, and through old woods, (where lately the violets peep'd<br> from the ground, spotting the gray debris;)<br> Amid the grass in the fields each side of the lanes--passing the<br> endless grass;<br> Passing the yellow-spear'd wheat, every grain from its shroud in the<br> dark-brown fields uprising;<br> Passing the apple-tree blows of white and pink in the orchards; 30<br> Carrying a corpse to where it shall rest in the grave,<br> Night and day journeys a coffin.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Coffin that passes through lanes and streets,<br> Through day and night, with the great cloud darkening the land,<br> With the pomp of the inloop'd flags, with the cities draped in black,<br> With the show of the States themselves, as of crape-veil'd women,<br> standing,<br> With processions long and winding, and the flambeaus of the night,<br> With the countless torches lit--with the silent sea of faces, and the<br> unbared heads,<br> With the waiting depot, the arriving coffin, and the sombre faces,<br> With dirges through the night, with the thousand voices rising strong<br> and solemn;    40<br> With all the mournful voices of the dirges, pour'd around the coffin,<br> The dim-lit churches and the shuddering organs--Where amid these you<br> journey,<br> With the tolling, tolling bells' perpetual clang;<br> Here! coffin that slowly passes,<br> I give you my sprig of lilac.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> (Nor for you, for one, alone;<br> Blossoms and branches green to coffins all I bring:<br> For fresh as the morning--thus would I carol a song for you, O sane<br> and sacred death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> All over bouquets of roses,<br> O death! I cover you over with roses and early lilies; 50<br> But mostly and now the lilac that blooms the first,<br> Copious, I break, I break the sprigs from the bushes;<br> With loaded arms I come, pouring for you,<br> For you, and the coffins all of you, O death.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O western orb, sailing the heaven!<br> Now I know what you must have meant, as a month since we walk'd,<br> As we walk'd up and down in the dark blue so mystic,<br> As we walk'd in silence the transparent shadowy night,<br> As I saw you had something to tell, as you bent to me night after<br> night,<br> As you droop'd from the sky low down, as if to my side, (while the<br> other stars all look'd on;)   60<br> As we wander'd together the solemn night, (for something, I know not<br> what, kept me from sleep;)<br> As the night advanced, and I saw on the rim of the west, ere you<br> went, how full you were of woe;<br> As I stood on the rising ground in the breeze, in the cold<br> transparent night,<br> As I watch'd where you pass'd and was lost in the netherward black of<br> the night,<br> As my soul, in its trouble, dissatisfied, sank, as where you, sad<br> orb,<br> Concluded, dropt in the night, and was gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Sing on, there in the swamp!<br> O singer bashful and tender! I hear your notes--I hear your call;<br> I hear--I come presently--I understand you;<br> But a moment I linger--for the lustrous star has detain'd me; 70<br> The star, my departing comrade, holds and detains me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O how shall I warble myself for the dead one there I loved?<br> And how shall I deck my song for the large sweet soul that has gone?<br> And what shall my perfume be, for the grave of him I love?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Sea-winds, blown from east and west,<br> Blown from the eastern sea, and blown from the western sea, till<br> there on the prairies meeting:<br> These, and with these, and the breath of my chant,<br> I perfume the grave of him I love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O what shall I hang on the chamber walls?<br> And what shall the pictures be that I hang on the walls, 80<br> To adorn the burial-house of him I love?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Pictures of growing spring, and farms, and homes,<br> With the Fourth-month eve at sundown, and the gray smoke lucid and<br> bright,<br> With floods of the yellow gold of the gorgeous, indolent, sinking<br> sun, burning, expanding the air;<br> With the fresh sweet herbage under foot, and the pale green leaves of<br> the trees prolific;<br> In the distance the flowing glaze, the breast of the river, with a<br> wind-dapple here and there;<br> With ranging hills on the banks, with many a line against the sky,<br> and shadows;<br> And the city at hand, with dwellings so dense, and stacks of<br> chimneys,<br> And all the scenes of life, and the workshops, and the workmen<br> homeward returning.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Lo! body and soul! this land!   90<br> Mighty Manhattan, with spires, and the sparkling and hurrying tides,<br> and the ships;<br> The varied and ample land--the South and the North in the light--<br> Ohio's shores, and flashing Missouri,<br> And ever the far-spreading prairies, cover'd with grass and corn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Lo! the most excellent sun, so calm and haughty;<br> The violet and purple morn, with just-felt breezes;<br> The gentle, soft-born, measureless light;<br> The miracle, spreading, bathing all--the fulfill'd noon;<br> The coming eve, delicious--the welcome night, and the stars,<br> Over my cities shining all, enveloping man and land.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Sing on! sing on, you gray-brown bird!  100<br> Sing from the swamps, the recesses--pour your chant from the bushes;<br> Limitless out of the dusk, out of the cedars and pines.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Sing on, dearest brother--warble your reedy song;<br> Loud human song, with voice of uttermost woe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O liquid, and free, and tender!<br> O wild and loose to my soul! O wondrous singer!<br> You only I hear......yet the star holds me, (but will soon depart;)<br> Yet the lilac, with mastering odor, holds me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Now while I sat in the day, and look'd forth,<br> In the close of the day, with its light, and the fields of spring,<br> and the farmer preparing his crops,  110<br> In the large unconscious scenery of my land, with its lakes and<br> forests,<br> In the heavenly aerial beauty, (after the perturb'd winds, and the<br> storms;)<br> Under the arching heavens of the afternoon swift passing, and the<br> voices of children and women,<br> The many-moving sea-tides,--and I saw the ships how they sail'd,<br> And the summer approaching with richness, and the fields all busy<br> with labor,<br> And the infinite separate houses, how they all went on, each with its<br> meals and minutia of daily usages;<br> And the streets, how their throbbings throbb'd, and the cities pent--<br> lo! then and there,<br> Falling upon them all, and among them all, enveloping me with the<br> rest,<br> Appear'd the cloud, appear'd the long black trail;<br> And I knew Death, its thought, and the sacred knowledge of death. 120</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Then with the knowledge of death as walking one side of me,<br> And the thought of death close-walking the other side of me,<br> And I in the middle, as with companions, and as holding the hands of<br> companions,<br> I fled forth to the hiding receiving night, that talks not,<br> Down to the shores of the water, the path by the swamp in the<br> dimness,<br> To the solemn shadowy cedars, and ghostly pines so still.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And the singer so shy to the rest receiv'd me;<br> The gray-brown bird I know, receiv'd us comrades three;<br> And he sang what seem'd the carol of death, and a verse for him I<br> love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> From deep secluded recesses,   130<br> From the fragrant cedars, and the ghostly pines so still,<br> Came the carol of the bird.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And the charm of the carol rapt me,<br> As I held, as if by their hands, my comrades in the night;<br> And the voice of my spirit tallied the song of the bird.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">  DEATH CAROL.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Come, lovely and soothing Death,<br> Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving,<br> In the day, in the night, to all, to each,<br> Sooner or later, delicate Death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Prais'd be the fathomless universe,  140<br> For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious;<br> And for love, sweet love--But praise! praise! praise!<br> For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding Death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Dark Mother, always gliding near, with soft feet,<br> Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Then I chant it for thee--I glorify thee above all;<br> I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come<br> unfalteringly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Approach, strong Deliveress!<br> When it is so--when thou hast taken them, I joyously sing the dead,<br> Lost in the loving, floating ocean of thee,  150<br> Laved in the flood of thy bliss, O Death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> From me to thee glad serenades,<br> Dances for thee I propose, saluting thee--adornments and feastings<br> for thee;<br> And the sights of the open landscape, and the high-spread sky, are<br> fitting,<br> And life and the fields, and the huge and thoughtful night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The night, in silence, under many a star;<br> The ocean shore, and the husky whispering wave, whose voice I know;<br> And the soul turning to thee, O vast and well-veil'd Death,<br> And the body gratefully nestling close to thee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Over the tree-tops I float thee a song!  160<br> Over the rising and sinking waves--over the myriad fields, and the<br> prairies wide;<br> Over the dense-pack'd cities all, and the teeming wharves and ways,<br> I float this carol with joy, with joy to thee, O Death!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> To the tally of my soul,<br> Loud and strong kept up the gray-brown bird,<br> With pure, deliberate notes, spreading, filling the night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Loud in the pines and cedars dim,<br> Clear in the freshness moist, and the swamp-perfume;<br> And I with my comrades there in the night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> While my sight that was bound in my eyes unclosed, 170<br> As to long panoramas of visions.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> I saw askant the armies;<br> And I saw, as in noiseless dreams, hundreds of battle-flags;<br> Borne through the smoke of the battles, and pierc'd with missiles, I<br> saw them,<br> And carried hither and yon through the smoke, and torn and bloody;<br> And at last but a few shreds left on the staffs, (and all in<br> silence,)<br> And the staffs all splinter'd and broken.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I saw battle-corpses, myriads of them,<br> And the white skeletons of young men--I saw them;<br> I saw the debris and debris of all the dead soldiers of the war; 180<br> But I saw they were not as was thought;<br> They themselves were fully at rest--they suffer'd not;<br> The living remain'd and suffer'd--the mother suffer'd,<br> And the wife and the child, and the musing comrade suffer'd,<br> And the armies that remain'd suffer'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Passing the visions, passing the night;<br> Passing, unloosing the hold of my comrades' hands;<br> Passing the song of the hermit bird, and the tallying song of my<br> soul,<br> (Victorious song, death's outlet song, yet varying, ever-altering<br> song,<br> As low and wailing, yet clear the notes, rising and falling, flooding<br> the night,    190<br> Sadly sinking and fainting, as warning and warning, and yet again<br> bursting with joy,<br> Covering the earth, and filling the spread of the heaven,<br> As that powerful psalm in the night I heard from recesses,)<br> Passing, I leave thee, lilac with heart-shaped leaves;<br> I leave thee there in the door-yard, blooming, returning with spring,<br> I cease from my song for thee;<br> From my gaze on thee in the west, fronting the west, communing with<br> thee,<br> O comrade lustrous, with silver face in the night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Yet each I keep, and all, retrievements out of the night;<br> The song, the wondrous chant of the gray-brown bird, 200<br> And the tallying chant, the echo arous'd in my soul,<br> With the lustrous and drooping star, with the countenance full of<br> woe,<br> With the lilac tall, and its blossoms of mastering odor;<br> With the holders holding my hand, nearing the call of the bird,<br> Comrades mine, and I in the midst, and their memory ever I keep--for<br> the dead I loved so well;<br> For the sweetest, wisest soul of all my days and lands...and this for<br> his dear sake;<br> Lilac and star and bird, twined with the chant of my soul,<br> There in the fragrant pines, and the cedars dusk and dim.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Walt+Whitman">Walt Whitman</a><div class=q>
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 WHEN lilacs last in the door-yard bloom'd,
 And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,
 I mourn'd--and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

 O ever-returning spring! trini..."></div>
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