Nancy Lincoln's Grave

[Gene C]

At the Lincoln Boyhood National Memorial,
between the visitor's center and a reconstructed log cabin, lies a small cemetery
Here a modest headstone marks the burial place of Abraham Lincoln's mother.
She was only 35 when she died. It's a nice, calm, respectful, well maintained site.
But it wasn't always this way.

In 1868, a Civil War veteran named William Q Corbin visited the boyhood home of his former commander-in-chief.
Corbin was dismayed by the unkempt appearance of Nancy Hanks Lincoln's gravesite and wrote a poem on the subject.


"THE NEGLECTED GRAVE OF LINCOLN'S MOTHER
(By William Q. Corbin)

"A wooded hill — a low sunk grave
Upon the hilltop hoary;
The Oak tree's branches o'er it wave;
Devoid of slab — no record save
Tradition's story.

"And who the humble dead that here
So lonely sleeps,
And who, as year rolls after year,
In summer green or autumn sere,
Comes here and weeps.

"So lone and dear, the forest wild
Unbroken seems,
We well might think some forest child,
Grown tired of hunt or war trail wild
Here lies and dreams.

"But no, no red man of the west
Inhabits here;
These clods by wild beasts pressed
Now lie upon the moldered breast
Of one more dear

"For Lincoln's mother here is laid,
Far from her son,
No long procession, no false parades
Of pride or place was here displayed,
No requiem sung.

No summer friends were crowded round
Her humble grave.
The summer breezes bore no sound
Save genuine grief, when this lone mound
Its echoes gave.

"Her husband, and her children dear,
And neighbors rude,
Dressed in their hardy homespun gear,
Were all that gathered round her bier,
In this lone wood.

"High-pile the marble above the breast
Of Chieftain slain;
While in the wild wood of the West,
In tomb by naught but Nature drest,
His mother is lain.

"Her grave from art or homage free
Neglected lies;
And pride and pomp, and vanity,
From this lone grave must ever flee,
As mockeries.

"A nation's grief and gratitude,
Bedecked his bier;
For her who sleeps in solitude,
In this lone grave in western wood,
Have ye no tear.
"And shall the mother of the brave,
And true and good,

Lie thus neglected in a grave,
Unfit for menial, clown or knave,
In this drear wood?

"Oh! Nation of the generous brave,
Be this your shame,
And let this grave without a name
No longer thus neglected be,
Beneath this forest tree."