Abraham Lincoln by James Russel Lowell

ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

by James Russel Lowell.

Nature, they say, doth dote.

And can not make a man

Save on some worn-out plan,

Repeating us by rote.

For him her Old-World moulds aside she threw.

And, choosing sweet clay from the breast

Of the unexhausted West,

With stuff untainted shaped a hero new.

Wise, steadfast in the strength of God, and true.

Great captains, with their guns and drums,

Disturb our judgment for the hour.

But at last silence comes;

These all are gone, and, standing like a tower,

Our children shall behold his fame;

The kindly, earnest, grave, foreseeing man.

Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame

New birth of our new soil - the first American.