Would I might rouse the Lincoln in you all, That which is gendered in the wilderness From lonely prairies and God's tenderness. Imperial soul, star of a weedy stream, Born where the ghosts of buffaloes still dream, Whose spirit hoof-beats storm above his grave, Above that breast of earth and prairie-fire -- Fire that freed the slave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A LADY WHO FANCIED HERSELF A BEAUTY by CHARLES SACKVILLE (1637-1706) THE WATER-LILY by JOHN BANISTER TABB THERE WILL COME SOFT RAINS' by SARA TEASDALE THE DANGER OF DISCONTENT by E.-G. BAYFIELD VERIS ET FAVONI by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN PATIENCE AND HOPE by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON |