FRANKLIN TAYLOR, born at

ville, New York, July 19, 1819. He was for several years connected with the Chicago Evening Journal. He wrote Pictures of Life in Camp and Field (1871); The World on Wheels, etc. (1874); Songs of Yesterday (1877); Between the Gates (1878); Summer Savory, etc. (1879); Dulce Domum (1884); Theophilus Trent, a novel (1887); etc. Among his best known poems are: Isle of the Long Ago, Rhymes of the River, and The Old Village Choir.

LINCOLN'S SECOND INAUGURAL

The following is an excerpt from a Centennial Poem read by B. F. Taylor on Decoration Day (May 30, 1876), on the occasion of the centennial celebration by the Department of the Potomac, Grand Army of the Republic, at Arlington Cemetery, Washington, D. C.

T

HEY see the pilgrims to the Springfield tomb—
Be proud today, oh, portico of gloom!—
Where lies the man in solitary state

Who never caused a tear but when he died

And set the flags around the world half-mast—
The gentle Tribune and so grandly great

That e'en the utter avarice of Death

That claims the world, and will not be denied,
Could only rob him of his mortal breath.

How strange the splendor, though the man be past!
His noblest inspiration was his last.

The statues of the Capitol are there.

As when he stood upon the marble stair

And said those words so tender, true and just,

A royal psalm that took mankind on trust-
Those words that will endure and he in them,
While May wears flowers upon her broidered hem,
And all that marble snows and drifts to dust:

That this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass

away:

With charity for all, with malice toward none,

With firmness in the right

As God shall give us light,

Let us finish the work already begun,

Care for the battle sons, the Nation's wounds to bind,
Care for the helpless ones that they will leave behind,
Cherish it we will, achieve it if we can,

A just and lasting peace, forever unto man!"
Amid old Europe's rude and thundering years,
When people strove as battle-clouds are driven,
One calm white angel of a day appears

In every year a gift direct from Heaven,
Wherein, from setting sun to setting sun
No thought of deed of bitterness was done.
"Day of the Truce of God!" Be this day ours,
Until perpetual peace flows like a river

And hopes as fragrant as these tribute flowers
Fill all the land forever and forever!

ERMANN HAGEDORN, born in New York, July 18, 1882. Instructor in English at Harvard in 1909-1911. Wrote several one-act plays which were produced by the Harvard Dramatic Club, and by clubs of other colleges. Author of The Silver Blade (a play in verse), The Woman of Corinth, A Troop of the Guard and other poems.

O

OH, PATIENT EYES!

H, patient eyes! oh, bleeding, mangled heart!
Oh, hero, whose wide soul, defying chains,
Swept at each army's head,

Swept to the charge and bled,

Gathering in one too sorrow-laden heart

All woes, all pains;

The anguish of the trusted hope that wanes,
The soldier's wound, the lonely mourner's smart.
He knew the noisy horror of the fight,

From dawn to dusk and through the hideous night
He heard the hiss of bullets, the shrill scream
Of the wide-arching shell,

Scattering at Gettysburg or by Potomac's stream, Like summer flowers, the pattering rain of death; With every breath,

He tasted battle and in every dream,

Trailing like mists from gaping walls of hell,
He heard the thud of heroes as they fell.