sorrow gone with life’s
fitful breath, rest for thy brow
bears the seal of death

April 27, Eighteen Sixty-Five

The flight, pursuit, and remorse of Lincoln’s assassin are vividly portrayed by a teenage Emma Lazarus in this poem.

She chose for her title the date of John Wilkes Booth’s capture and death, in error giving it a day later than it actually occurred.

This poem first appeared in 1867, in “Poems and Translations by Emma Lazarus, Written Between the Ages of Fourteen and Seventeen.”

Because of the ambiguous title, this piece has gone unnoticed by most Lincoln scholars.

April 27, Eighteen Sixty-Five

“Oh, where can I lay my aching head?”
The weary-worn fugitive sadly said.
“I have wandered in all the sleepless night,
And I saw my pursuers distant light
As it glared o’er the river’s waves of blue,
And flashed forth again in each drop of dew–
I’ve wandered all night in this deadly air,
Till, sick’ning, I drop with pain and despair.”

Go forth! Thou shalt have here no rest again,
For thy brow is marked with the brand of Cain.

“I am weary and faint and ill,” said he,
“And the stars look down so mercilessly!
Do you mock me with your glittering ray,
And seek, like the garish sun, to betray?
O, forbear, cruel stars, so bright and high;
Ye are happy and pure in God’s own sky.
O, where can I lay me down to sleep,
To rest and to slumber, to pray and weep?”

Go forth! Thou shalt have here no rest again,
For thy brow is marked with the brand of Cain.

“To sleep! What is sleep now but haunting dreams?
Chased off, everytime by the flashing gleam
Of the light o’er the stream of yonder town,
Where all are searching and hunting me down!
O, the wearisome pain, the dread suspense,
And the horror each instant more intense!
I yearn for the rest from my pain and for sleep–
Bright stars, do ye mock, or quivering, weep?”

Go forth! Thou shalt have here no rest again,
For thy brow is marked with the brand of Cain.

On the marsh’s grass, without pillow or bed,
Fell the rain and dew on his fated head;
While the will-o’-the-wisp with its changeful light,
Led him on o’er the swamp in the darksome night;
And all Nature’s voices cried out again,
To the weary fugitive in his pain–

Go forth! Thou shalt have here no rest again,
For thy brow is marked with the brand of Cain.

The pursuers are near! O, bitter strife!
Youth, more strong than despair still clings to life.
More near and more near! They find him at last;
One desperate struggle, and all is past–
One desperate struggle, mid smoke and flame,
For life without joy, and darkness and shame.
A prayer ascends to high Heaven’s gate
For his soul, O God, be it not too late!
A ball cleaves the air…He is lying there,
Pale, stiff and cold in the fresh morning air;
And the flames’ hot breath is all stifled now,
And the breezes caress his marble brow.

All sorrow has gone with a life’s fitful breath.
Rest at last! For thy brow bears the seal of death.

This poem is part of a collection Abraham Lincoln: The Trhttp://www.jewish-history.com/civilwar/lazarus.htmlibute of the Synagogue compiled by Emanuel Hertz, Bloch Publishing, 1927, p. 184.

Emma Lazarus (July 22, 1849 – November 19, 1887) was an American author of poetry, prose, and translations, as well as an activist for Jewish and Georgist causes. She is remembered for writing the sonnet “The New Colossus”, which was inspired by the Statue of Liberty, in 1883.

blessed is the man
whose quiver is full – they will
not be put to shame

Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth.

Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them.

They will not be put to shame when they contend with their opponents in court.

Psalms 127:3-5 New International Version (NIV)

exciting drama
contribution lies in fabling
that it inspired

The significance of the Pony Express is not as apparent as its execution is memorable. The value of what happened during those eighteen months has transgressed the tangible effects carried in the padlocked saddle bags. The Pony Express as a cultural symbol has enjoyed a lot of traction over the years, and among the many artists, authors, journalists, and historians to depict and describe it, few have been able to resist romanticizing it. The apocryphal horseman has galloped off into the sunset so many times that exaggeration has adulterated fact. One exception is the 1930 book Six Horses, written by Captain William Banning and George Hugh Banning. William’s father was a transportation tycoon in California in the late 1800s. The book covers communication, freighting, and passenger conveyance in the West in the nineteenth century. Its title refers to a team of horses drawing a stagecoach. Banning dedicates two chapters to the Pony Express, and his observations are telling:

It did not involve more than 150 round trips. It did not cover a full nineteen months. Like a belated fragment of a storm, it came and was gone. Yet the fact remains: a more glamorous contribution to our historic West than that of this ephemeral Pony would be difficult to name.37

Banning refers to the Pony Express as an “immortal Pegasus” that was “able to identify himself with the new empire as permanently as though he had come racing up from the gold rush to the last spike driven for the Pacific Railroad.” History has lauded the Pony Express as a bold stroke of transcontinental progress, but Banning argues that the Pony Express “neither caused nor hastened the developments that followed his trail” and that “had he never existed, all must have been the same.” It was an exciting drama while it lasted, but it was little more than a drama. Its contribution to our historic West, therefore, lies in the fabling that it inspired:

From The Last Ride of the Pony Express: My 2,000-mile Horseback Journey into the Old West by Will Grant, Little, Brown and Company (June 6, 2023).

Seeming as American as any American enterprise could ever get.

According to legend, the help wanted notice read:

It should be pointed out that the Pony Express ran from April 3, 1860, to October 26, 1861.

October 26, 1861 was the day the transcontinental telegraph went into service.

It cost more money than it made.

It didn’t last longer than technology.

But it has a permaemnt place in the history of this country.

A place based on fable than fact.

But who cares.

the awe that feels good
found in moments of wonder
and humility

Awe, Dr. Keltner explained, is that complex emotion we experience when encountering something so vast that our sense of self recedes.

It can be positive or negative (like the feelings that come from witnessing violence or death), but the awe that feels good is the type found in moments of wonder and humility.

From This Kind of Walk Is Much More Than a Workout by By Jancee Dunn.

Ms. Dunn writes:

This week, we’re exploring “awe walks,” outdoor rambles designed to cultivate a sense of amazement.

Jancee Dunn is the columnist for Well’s subscriber-only newsletter at The New York Times. She writes longer features as well, and spearheads special projects for the desk. Her work has appeared in many sections across The Times.

The idea for a walk with awe or a walk in awe brought to mind a Mary Oliver poem that my sister Lisa sent to me.

Gethsemane by Mary Oliver

The grass never sleeps.
Or the roses.

Nor does the lily have a secret eye that shuts until morning.
Jesus said, wait with me. But the disciples slept.
The cricket has such splendid fringe on its feet,
and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body,
and heaven knows if it ever sleeps.

Jesus said, wait with me. And maybe the stars did, maybe the wind wound itself
into a silver tree, and didn’t move, maybe
the lake far away, where once he walked as on a
blue pavement,
lay still and waited, wild awake.

Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut, that could not
keep that vigil, how they must have wept,
so utterly human, knowing this too
must be a part of the story.

I have quoted this line before, but I like it so much.

As Alice Walker writes in her book The Color Purple,

“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it. People think pleasing God is all God cares about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back.”