THERE is no name in all our country's story So loved as his today: No name that so unites the things of glory With life's plain, common way. Poor as the poorest were his days' beginnings, The earth-floored cabin home. And yet, compared with his, our rich man's winnings Are fleeting as the foam. His was a tragedy such deeps concealing All eyes with his grow dim. And his a humor so sincerely healing The whole world laughs with him. He knew the doubter's doubt, the restless heaving Of the swift waves of youth. He knew the calm of faith, the strong believing Of him who lives the truth. So manifold his life, the great-souled Lincoln Makes every life his own. Therefore of all our heroes whom we think on He has a place alone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BATTLE OF BRITAIN by CECIL DAY LEWIS SERVICE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BEFORE A PAINTING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |