Would I might rouse the Lincoln in you all, That which is gendered in the wilderness From lonely prairies and God's tenderness. Imperial soul, star of a weedy stream, Born where the ghosts of buffaloes still dream, Whose spirit hoof-beats storm above his grave, Above that breast of earth and prairie-fire -- Fire that freed the slave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JANGLING MEMORY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SILENCE SINGS by THOMAS STURGE MOORE STREET CORNER COLLEGE by KENNETH PATCHEN THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM BY THE BABYLONIAN HORDES by ISAAC ROSENBERG FRATER AVE ATQUE VALE by ALFRED TENNYSON |