LINCOLN. BY AUGUSTUS ST. GAUDENS]

=THE GETTYSBURG ADDRESS=

Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this
continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the
proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or
any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on
a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of
that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives
that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we
should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate--we cannot consecrate--we
cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled
here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract.
The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it
can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather,
to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here
have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here
dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from these honored
dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the
last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these
dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, under God, shall
have a new birth of freedom; and that government of the people, by the
people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

The above address was delivered by Abraham Lincoln, November 19,
1863, at the dedication of the Gettysburg battle-field as a
national cemetery for Union soldiers.

=O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!=

O captain. My captain. Our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! Heart! Heart!
Leave you not the little spot,
Where on the deck my captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O captain. My captain. Rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
O captain. Dear father.
This arm I push beneath you;
It i