On the brighter side

Seems a scholar has uncovered a poem by Abraham Lincoln.

“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! . . .

Sweet steel! Come forth from out 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!”

Thanks for John Pawlik at Melic Review's discussion board for posting the poem where I could come across it.