Poetry From Women
Monday, October 21, 2013
By Sarah Williams (“Sadie”) (1841–1868)
killed him then? the cowards—be it so!
Henceforth he is immortal—President,
Until the dead shall waken: none may know
His term of office now, nor how ’tis spent.
“His life is rounded off and perfect now;
It reached its fitting climax when great Death
Herself stooped down to crown the victor’s brow,
And set the seal of silence on his breath.
“Nor foe nor friend can fret him into speech;
He shines as calmly as some distant star,
Whose light these lower worlds of ours can reach,
While not a cloud doth e’er extend so far.
“Silent and grand, embalmed in suffering,
What monarch ever lay in state like this?
We dare not weep, we hear the angels sing,
Exultant, as they welcome him to bliss.”
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Sarah Williams (“Sadie”)
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