Before a Statue of Lincoln
H
ARRIED by infinite perplexities,
The face of Lincoln, carven though it be,
Still bears the scars of burdens that he bore
With grave and sacerdotal dignity.
Humble he was, and yet his sense of right
Required that he stand aloof and proud:
A man who moved among his fellow men,
Yet set apart forever from the crowd.
Misunderstood, rejected, of ten scorned,
His honor and integrity unpriced·,
With something of him kindred to the earth,
And something close related to the Christ:
A Leader toward the light—a common man,
And oh, to look upon his like again!
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