Page:Poems, Volume 2, Coates, 1916.djvu/47



HEY tell you Lincoln was ungainly, plain?

To some he seemed so: true.

Yet in his look was charm to gain

E'en such as I, who knew

With how confirmed a will he tried

To overthrow a cause for which I would have died.

The sun may shine with naught to shroud

Its beam yet show less bright

Than when from out eclipsing cloud

It pours its radiant light;

And Lincoln seen amid the shows of war

Clothed in his sober black, was somehow felt the more

To be a centre and a soul of power,—

An influence benign

To kindle in a faithless hour

New trust in the divine.

Grave was his visage, but no cloud could dull

The radiance from within that made it beautiful.