by Vachel Lindsay (1879 - 1931)
Translation
Abraham Lincoln walks at midnight
Language: English  after the English
It is portentous, and a thing of state That here at midnight, in our little town A mourning figure walks, and will not rest, Near the old court-house pacing up and down, Or by his homestead, or in shadowed yards He lingers where his children used to play, Or through the market, on the well-worn stones He stalks until the dawn-stars burn away. A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black, A famous high top-hat and plain worn shawl. He cannot sleep upon his hillside now. He is among us: as in times before! And we who toss and lie awake for long, Breathe deep, and start, to see him pass the door. His head is bowed. He thinks of men and kings. Yea, when the sick world cries, how can he sleep? Too many fight, too many weep. The sins of war-lords burn his heart. He sees the dreadnaughts scouring every main. He carries on his shawl-wrapped shoulders now The bitterness, the folly and the pain. He cannot rest until a spirit-dawn Shall come; the shining hope of people free: A league of sober folk, the Workers' Earth, Bringing long peace to Cornland, Alp and Sea. It breaks his heart that kings must murder still, That all his hours of travail Seem yet in vain. And who will bring sweet peace That he may sleep upon his hill again?
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It is based on
- a text in English by Vachel Lindsay (1879 - 1931), "Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight", appears in The Congo and Other Poems, first published 1914
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Abbie Betinis (b. 1980), "Abraham Lincoln walks at midnight ", first performed 2014 [tenor, piano, snare drum], Abbie Betinis Music Co. [ sung text checked 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2016-07-01
Line count: 29
Word count: 231