Lincoln
Through the dim pageant of the years
A wondrous tracery appears:
A cabin of the western wild
Shelters in sleep a new born child.
Nor nurse nor parent dear can know
The way those infant feet must go,
And yet a nation's help and hope
Are sealed within that horoscope.
Beyond is toil for daily bread,
And thought to noble issues led.
And courage, arming for the morn
For whose behest this man was born.
A man of homely, rustic ways,
Yet he achieves the forum's praise
And soon earth's highest meed has won,
The seat and sway of Washington.
No throne of honors and delights,
Distrustful days and sleepless nights,
To struggle, suffer and aspire,
Like Israel, led by cloud and fire.
A treacherous shot, a sob of rest,
A martyr's palm upon his breast,
A welcome from the glorious seat
Where blameless souls of heroes meet.
And thrilling, through unmeasured days,
A song of gratitude and praise,
A cry that all the earth shall heed,
To God, who gave him for our need.