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.