How insane!

Why would academic society slander one of GOD'S GREATEST MEN EVER, but attributing the following disgusting poem to Abraham Lincoln?

Please note there is not the slightest evidence Lincoln ever wrote such weakness!

But weak people like to make the GODLY LINCOLN LOOK BAD . . . so they accept such myth without evidence!

CONTRAST the ease with which historians BELIEVE THIS WITHOUT EVIDENCE . . . yet reject George Washington CUTTING THE CHERRY TREE, which has much evidence!

  • Has living aunt confirmed the story as well known and oft repeated,
  • His Pastor confirmed the same thing;
  • Washington's whole fmiy and their Church famil ll said the story had been told and retold by his parents a thousand times!

Yet no POLITICALLY CORRECT American historian believes this story, in spite of millions and millions of copies of books - over a period of 220 years - telling the story!!!


TO THE CONTRARY, after several difficult years, 1836-38 was a fantastic period for Lincoln:

  1. Lincoln got his License to practice to practice Law in 1836;
  2. Lincoln was approved to practice Law before the Illinois Supreme Court  [I.S.C.] in 1837;
  3. Lincoln got some cases before the I.S.C. the next year in 1838...
  4. . . . thus Lincoln's FIRST STEP to the WHITE HOUSE, with credentials of 300-plus I.S.C cases, 
  5. . . . PLUS the end of his financial woes . . .
  6. ALL BEGIN IN 1838 . . .
  7. So the idea of him wanting to commit suicide in 1838 is absolutely not possible!
  8. HE WAS PUMPED!!!!!

Below is the following ONLY EVIDENCE for falsely accusing Lincoln of this poor drivel:

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"A presidential historian says he's found an unsigned poem published in 1838 that was likely written by Abraham Lincoln. Hear NPR's Neal Conan and Joshua Wolf Shenk, author of The Melancholy of Lincoln."

The Suicide's Soliloquy

  • Here, where the lonely hooting owl
  • Sends forth his midnight moans,
  • Fierce wolves shall o'er my carcase growl,
  • Or buzzards pick my bones.

  • No fellow-man shall learn my fate,
  • Or where my ashes lie;
  • Unless by beasts drawn round their bait,
  • Or by the ravens' cry.

  • Yes! I've resolved the deed to do,
  • And this the place to do it:
  • This heart I'll rush a dagger through,
  • Though I in hell should rue it!

  • Hell! What is hell to one like me
  • Who pleasures never know;
  • By friends consigned to misery,
  • By hope deserted too?

  • To ease me of this power to think,
  • That through my bosom raves,
  • I'll headlong leap from hell's high brink,
  • And wallow in its waves.

  • Though devils yell, and burning chains
  • May waken long regret;
  • Their frightful screams, and piercing pains,
  • Will help me to forget.

  • Yes! I'm prepared, through endless night,
  • To take that fiery berth!
  • Think not with tales of hell to fright
  • Me, who am damn'd on earth!

  • Sweet steel! come forth from our your sheath,
  • And glist'ning, speak your powers;
  • Rip up the organs of my breath,
  • And draw my blood in showers!

  • I strike! It quivers in that heart
  • Which drives me to this end;
  • I draw and kiss the bloody dart,
  • My last—my only friend!