Lincoln Is Dead

He is gone, the strong base of the nation,
  The dove to his covet has fled;
Ye heroes lament his privation,
  For Lincoln is dead.
 
He is gone down, the sun of the Union,
  Like Phoebus, that sets in the west;
The planet of peace and communion,
  Forever has gone to his rest.
 
He is gone down from a world of commotion,
  No equal succeeds in his stead;
His wonders extend with the ocean,
  Whose waves murmur, Lincoln is dead.
 
He is gone and can ne’er be forgotten,
  Whose great deeds eternal shall bloom;
When gold, pearls and diamonds are rotten,
  His deeds will break forth from the tomb.
 
He is gone out of glory to glory,
  A smile with the tear may be shed,
O, then let us tell the sweet story,
  Triumphantly, Lincoln is dead.