Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from President Lincoln's Funeral Hymn
Ver the breast of the spring, the land, amid cit ies, Amid lanes Sc through old woods, where lately the violets peeped from the ground, spotting the grey debris, Amid the grass in the fields each side of the lanes, passing the endless grass, Passing the yellow-speared wheat, every grain from its shroud in the dark-brown fields uprisen, Passing the apple-tree blows of white 85 pink in the orchards, Carrying a corpse to where it shall rest in the grave.
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This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
