This man whose homely face you look upon, <br />Was one of nature s masterful, great men; <br />Born with strong arms, that unfought battles won; <br />Direct of speech, and cunning with the pen. <br />Chosen for large designs, he had the art <br />Of winning with his humor, and he went <br />Straight to his mark, which was the human heart; <br />Wise, too, for what he could not break he bent. <br />Upon his back a more than Atlas-load, <br />The burden of the Commonwealth, was laid; <br />He stooped, and rose up to it, though the road <br />Shot suddenly downwards, not a whit dismayed. <br />Hold, warriors, councillors, kings ! All now give place <br />To this dear benefactor of the race.<br /><br />Richard Henry Stoddard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lincoln-s-birthday/
