A. Lincoln

In fourth grade, each morning,
Before I would dress or eat,
Or ready myself for school,
I’d lay on the carpet in 
The hallway, knees bent,
Feet toasting in front of the
Wall heater, and I’d read

Cover to cover, each morning,
That full year, a child’s biography
Of A. Lincoln, from Kentucky
Birth to Indiana poverty, to
Politics and to Springfield
And the House, and family,
And grief, and courage,

All his moral glory displayed
In that book for a child’s
Apprehension.  A cheap book,
Long lost, or discarded, 
Cardboard covers and garish
Illustrations, the funeral train
Drawn to elicit

A child’s tears and pity.
But the discounted presentation
Could not diminish, but
As I now consider, enhanced 
Our subject’s enduring nobility 
Of mind and heart, 
However broken his
Weary face by the griefs

Of war, that our nation might
Endure, and, however fitfully,
Embody the hope which he,
Our second founder, stressed
And taught, and re-iterated,
In speech, and in action:
All men are created equal,

And endowed by their
Creator…..

On this Fourth of July,
May this distressed nation
Be blessed by that man’s
Memory, and honor his 
Teachings, in word
And in action.