Born of the ground, The Great West nursed him on her rugged knees. Her rigors keyed the sinews of his will; The strength of virgin forests braced his mind; The hush of spacious prairies stilled his soul. The tools were his first teachers, kindly stern. The plow, the flail, the maul, the echoing ax Taught him their homely wisdom, and their peace. A rage for knowledge drove his restless mind: He fed his spirit with the bread of books, He slaked his thirst at all the wells of thought. Hunger and hardship, penury and pain Waylaid his youth and wrestled for his life. They came to master, but he made them serve. From prairie cabin up to Capitol, One fire was on his spirit, one resolve-- To strike the stroke that rounds the perfect star. The grip that swung the ax on Sangamon Was on the pen that spelled Emancipation. He built the rail-pile as he built the State, Pouring his splendid strength through every blow, The conscience of him testing every stroke, To make his deed the measure of a man. So came the Captain with the thinking heart; And when the judgment thunders split the house, Wrenching the rafters from their ancient rest, He held the ridgepole up, and spiked again The rafters of the Home. He held his place-- Held the long purpose like a growing tree-- Held on through blame and faltered not at praise. And when he fell in whirlwind, he went down As when a lordly cedar green with boughs Goes down with a great shout upon the hills, And leaves a lonesome place against the sky. [25] _All rights reserved by the author._ From the Memorial Address to Congress on the LIFE AND CHARACTER OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN BY GEORGE BANCROFT _Senators, Representatives of America:_