Lincoln's Grief Poem by Michael Kolb

Cool springs the moss below torn leathery feet
Cold runs the stream's sweet quenching relief
Before I lay resting in the meadow's crimson peace
Before I lay resting in the meadow's crimson peace

Fingers of gold filtered sunlight, shadow and leaf
Summer's fragrant medley- honeysuckle carpet and wreath
Offer last minutes of comfort where beauty now brief

The jay in the distance calls youth back to me
Before march on the quick step leads us nearer to Thee
Before march on the quick step leads me nearer to Thee

Lincoln's guns now roar with fire and smoke
And splinter the daydream, the hickory, the oak

Our stocks to the shoulder and to the muster- our pride
One last Hurrah! to the banner we fly

Now the lead seed blooms red where my heart used to beat
And my bones crash the meadow forever now to sleep

And the din rush of battle succumbs to the peace
Above the crimson stained meadow that holds Lincoln's grief.