ACROSS the page of history, As in a looking glass Or on a moving-picture screen, The Nation's heroes pass; With sword and mace and pen they pace In epaulets and braid, And some, with ruffles at their wrists, In linen fine arrayed. But at the long procession's head, In loose ill-fitting clothes, A lanky woodsman with an axe Upon his shoulder goes; In every patriotic heart The figure lean and tall Is shrined beside the starry flag For Lincoln leads them all. |