Classic Poem

If Lincoln were to come again to earth,
—And view this land of plenty and yet know
That countless of its people knew but dearth,
—And in their hearts was bitterness and woe,
Those sorrowing eyes of his perhaps would wear
—An even more profound and troubled gaze,
And though he faltered he would not despair,
—But find new lamps to light the darkened ways.

For only he who once walked hand in hand
—With poverty can feel for those whose lot
It is to wear the stigma of the brand
—Of alms and doles that leaves an ugly blot—
The heart that bled for everyone who knew
Distress would somehow know the thing to do.

If Lincoln were to come again to earth,
—And view this land of plenty and yet know
That countless of its people knew but dearth,
—And in their hearts was bitterness and woe,
Those sorrowing eyes of his perhaps would wear
—An even more profound and troubled gaze,
And though he faltered he would not despair,
—But find new lamps to light the darkened ways.

For only he who once walked hand in hand
—With poverty can feel for those whose lot
It is to wear the stigma of the brand
—Of alms and doles that leaves an ugly blot—
The heart that bled for everyone who knew
Distress would somehow know the thing to do.