One of Our Presidents
(See page 80)
He sits there on the low, rude, backless bench,
With his tall hat beside him, and one arm
Flung, thus, across his knee. The other hand
Rests, flat, palm downward, by him on the seat.
So Æsop may have sat; so Lincoln did.
For all the sadness in the sunken eyes,
For all the kingship in the uncrowned brow,
The great form leans so friendly, father-like,
It is a call to children. I have watched
Eight at a time swarming upon him there,
All clinging to him—riding upon his knees,
Cuddling between his arms, clasping his neck,
Perched on his shoulders, even on his head;
And one small, play-stained hand I saw reached up
And laid most softly on the kind bronze lips
As if it claimed them. These were the children
Of foreigners we call them, but not so
They call themselves; for when we asked of one,
A restless dark-eyed girl, who this man was,
She answered straight, "One of our Presidents."
"Let all the winds of hell blow in our sails,"
I thought, "thank God, thank God the ship rides true!"
HEAD OF LINCOLN
This medal was struck for the Grand Army of the Republic in commemoration of the 100th anniversary of the birth of Abraham Lincoln
Frank Dempster Sherman, son of John Dempster and Lucy (McFarland) Sherman, was born May 6, 1860, at Peekskill, New York; educated at home and at Columbia and Howard Universities, and since 1886 connected with Columbia University where he is Professor of Graphics. Author of several volumes of poems which are published by Houghton-Mifflin Company, Boston.
Professor Sherman married, November 16, 1887, Juliet Durand, daughter of Rev. Cyrus Bervic and Sarah Elizabeth (Merserveau) Durand.
He is a member of the National Institute of Arts and Letters.