(Gutzon Borglum, Sculptor)

A man who drew his strength from all,
Because of all a part;
He led with wisdom, for he knew
The common heart.
Its hopes, its fears his eye discerned,
And, reading, he could share.
Its griefs were his, its burdens were
For him to bear.
Its faith that wrong must sometime yield,
That right is ever right,
Sustained him in the saddest hour,
The darkest night.
In patient confidence he wrought,
The people's will his guide,
Nor brought to his appointed task
The touch of pride.
The people's man, familiar friend,
Shown by the sculptor's art
As one who trusted, one who knew
The common heart.

(Gutzon Borglum, Sculptor)

A man who drew his strength from all,
— Because of all a part;
He led with wisdom, for he knew
— The common heart.

Its hopes, its fears his eye discerned,
— And, reading, he could share.
Its griefs were his, its burdens were
— For him to bear.

Its faith that wrong must sometime yield,
— That right is ever right,
Sustained him in the saddest hour,
— The darkest night.

In patient confidence he wrought,
— The people's will his guide,
Nor brought to his appointed task
— The touch of pride.

The people's man, familiar friend,
— Shown by the sculptor's art
As one who trusted, one who knew
— The common heart.