Hurt was the nation with a mighty wound, <br />And all her ways were filled with clam'rous sound. <br />Wailed loud the South with unremitting grief, <br />And wept the North that could not find relief. <br />Then madness joined its harshest tone to strife: <br />A minor note swelled in the song of life. <br />'Till, stirring with the love that filled his breast, <br />But still, unflinching at the right's behest, <br />Grave Lincoln came, strong handed, from afar, <br />The mighty Homer of the lyre of war. <br />'T was he who bade the raging tempest cease, <br />Wrenched from his harp the harmony of peace, <br />Muted the strings, that made the discord,--Wrong, <br />And gave his spirit up in thund'rous song. <br />Oh mighty Master of the mighty lyre, <br />Earth heard and trembled at thy strains of fire: <br />Earth learned of thee what Heav'n already knew, <br />And wrote thee down among her treasured few.<br /><br />Paul Laurence Dunbar<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lincoln-3/
