Classic Poem

This tomb, by loving hands up-piled
To him, the merciful and mild,
From age to age shall carry down
The glory of his great renown.

As the long centuries onward flow,
As generations come and go,
Wide and more wide his fame shall spread,
And greener laurels crown his head.

And when this pile is fallen to dust,
Its bronzes crumbled into rust,
Thy name, O Lincoln, still shall be
Revered and loved from sea to sea.

Lord of the Nations! grant us still
Another patriot sage, to fill
The seat of power, and save the State
From selfish greed. For this we wait.

This tomb, by loving hands up-piled
To him, the merciful and mild,
From age to age shall carry down
The glory of his great renown.

As the long centuries onward flow,
As generations come and go,
Wide and more wide his fame shall spread,
And greener laurels crown his head.

And when this pile is fallen to dust,
Its bronzes crumbled into rust,
Thy name, O Lincoln, still shall be
Revered and loved from sea to sea.

Lord of the Nations! grant us still
Another patriot sage, to fill
The seat of power, and save the State
From selfish greed. For this we wait.