I never saw his wrinkled face, Where tears and smiles disputed place; I never touched his homely hand, That seemed in benediction raised, E'en when it emphasized command, What time the fires of battle blazed, The hand that signed the act of grace Which freed a wronged and tortured race; And yet I feel that he is mine-- My country's; and that light divine Streams from the saintly oriflamme Of great, gaunt, patient Abraham. He was our standard-bearer; he Caught up the thread of destiny, And round the breaking Union bound And wove it firmly. To his task He rose gigantic; nor could sound Of menace daunt him. Did he ask For homage when glad Victory Followed his flags from sea to sea? Nay, but he staunched the wounds of war; And you owe all you have and are-- And I owe all I have and am To great, gaunt, patient Abraham. The pillars of our temple rocked Beneath the mighty wind that shocked Foundations that the fathers laid; But he upheld the roof and stood Fearless, while others were afraid; His sturdy strength and faith were good, While coward knees together knocked, And traitor hands the door unlocked, To let the unbeliever in. He bore the burden of our sin, While the rebel voices rose to damn The great, gaunt, patient Abraham. And then he died a martyr's death-- Forgiveness in his latest breath, And peace upon his dying lips. He died for me; he died for you; Heaven help us if his memory slips Out of our hearts! His soul was true And clean and beautiful. What saith Dull history that reckoneth But coldly? That he was a man Who loved his fellows as few can; And that he hated every sham-- Our great, gaunt, patient Abraham. Majestic, sweet, was Washington; And Jefferson was like the sun-- He glorified the simplest thing He touched; and Andrew Jackson seems The impress of a fiery king To leave upon us: these in dreams Are oft before us; but the one Whose vast work was so simply done-- The Lincoln of our war-tried years-- Has all our deepest love; in tears, We chant the In Memoriam Of great, gaunt, patient Abraham. LINCOLN, THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE[D] Edwin Markham This poem, which is considered one of the two best tributes ever paid to Lincoln, the other being Walt Whitman's O Captain! My Captain! is a tremendously virile and earnest summing up of the meaning of the man (Lincoln) and his life; a lesson in patriotism and a masterful piece of hero worship.