ou they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

[9] _By permission of David McKay._

ABRAHAM LINCOLN'S DEATH--A DESCRIPTION OF THE SCENE AT FORD'S
THEATRE[10]

WALT WHITMAN

The day (April 14, 1865) seems to have been a pleasant one throughout
the whole land--the moral atmosphere pleasant, too--the long storm, so
dark, so fratricidal, full of blood and doubt and gloom, over and
ended at last by the sunrise of such an absolute National victory, and
utter breaking down of secessionism--we almost doubted our senses! Lee
had capitulated beneath the apple tree at Appomattox. The other
armies, the flanges of the revolt, swiftly followed.

And could it really be, then? Out of all the affairs of this world of
woe and passion, of failure and disorder and dismay, was there really
come the confirmed, unerring sign of peace, like a shaft of pure
light--of rightful rule--of God?

But I must not dwell on accessories. The deed hastens. The popular
afternoon paper, the little Evening Star, had scattered all over its
third page, divided among the advertisements in a sensational manner
in a hundred different places: "The President and his lady will be at
the theatre this evening." Lincoln was fond of the theatre. I have
myself seen him there several times. I remember thinking how funny it
was that he, in some respects the leading actor in the greatest and
stormiest drama known to real history's stage through centuries,
should sit there and be so completely interested in those human
jack-straws, moving about with their silly little gestures, foreign
spirit, and flatulent text.

So the day, as I say, was propitious. Early herbage, early flowers,
were out. I remembered where I was stopping at the time, the season
being advanced, there were many lilacs in full bloom. By one of those
caprices that enter and give tin