rs, and one of her earliest poems, _Nearer Home_,
beginning with "One sweetly solemn thought," won her a world-wide
reputation. In the joint housekeeping in New York she took from choice
(Alice being for many years an invalid) the larger share of duties
upon herself, and hence found little opportunity for literary work.
In society, however, she was brilliant, but at all times kindly. She
wrote a touching tribute to her sister's memory, published in the
_Ladies' Repository_ a few days before her own death, which occurred
at Newport, R. I., July 31, 1871. In the volume of _Poems of Alice and
Phoebe Cary_ (Philadelphia, 1850) but about one-third were written by
Phoebe. Her independently published books are _Poems and Parodies_
(1854), and _Poems of Faith, Hope and Love_ (1868).

ABRAHAM LINCOLN

Our sun hath gone down at the noonday,
The heavens are black;
And over the morning the shadows
Of night-time are back.

Stop the proud boasting mouth of the cannon,
Hush the mirth and the shout;
God is God! and the ways of Jehovah
Are past finding out.

Lo! the beautiful feet on the mountains,
That yesterday stood;
The white feet that came with glad tidings
Are dabbled in blood.

The Nation that firmly was settling
The crown on her head,
Sits, like Rizpah, in sackcloth and ashes,
And watches her dead.

Who is dead? who, unmoved by our wailing
Is lying so low?
O, my Land, stricken dumb in your anguish,
Do you feel, do you know?

Once this good man we mourn, overwearied,
Worn, anxious, oppressed,
Was going out from his audience chamber
For a season to rest;

Unheeding the thousands who waited
To honor and greet,
When the cry of a child smote upon him
And turned back his feet.

"Three days hath a woman been waiting,"
Said they, "patient and meek."
And he answered, "Whatever her errand,
Let me hear; let her speak!"

So she came, and stood trembling before him
And pleaded her cause;