On a Picture of Lincoln

I READ once more this care-worn, patient face,
And learn anew that sorrow is the dower
Of him that sinks himself to lift his race
Into the seat of peace and power.

How beautiful the homely features grow,
How soft the light from out the mild, sad eyes,
The gleam from deeps of grief the soul must know,
To be so great, — so kind, so wise!
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