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Paul Laurence Dunbar - Lincoln
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Hurt was the nation with a mighty wound,
  And all her ways were filled with clam`rous sound.
  Wailed loud the South with unremitting grief,
  And wept the North that could not find relief.
  Then madness joined its harshest tone to strife:
  A minor note swelled in the song of life.
  `Till, stirring with the love that filled his breast,
  But still, unflinching at the right`s behest,
  Grave Lincoln came, strong handed, from afar,
  The mighty Homer of the lyre of war.
  `T was he who bade the raging tempest cease,
  Wrenched from his harp the harmony of peace,
  Muted the strings, that made the discord,--Wrong,
  And gave his spirit up in thund`rous song.
  Oh mighty Master of the mighty lyre,
  Earth heard and trembled at thy strains of fire:
  Earth learned of thee what Heav`n already knew,
  And wrote thee down among her treasured few.
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