This man, whose homely face you look upon,
Was one of Nature’s masterful, great men;
Born with strong arms, that unfought battles won
Direct of speech, and cunning with the pen. 
Chosen for large designs, he had the art
Of winning with his humor, and he went
Straight to his mark, which was the human heart;
Wise, too, for what he could not break he bent. 
Upon his back a more than Atlas-load,—­
The burden of the Commonwealth,—­was laid;
He stooped, and rose up to it, though the road
Shot suddenly downwards, not a whit dismayed. 
Hold, warriors, councillors, kings!  All now give place
To this dear benefactor of the Race.
1101
R.H.  STODDARD:  Abraham Lincoln.

=Line.=

Marlowe’s mighty line.
1102
BEN JONSON:  To the Memory of Shakespeare.

Profan’d the God-given strength, and marr’d the lofty line. 1103 SCOTT:  Marmion, Introduction to Canto i.

=Lion.=

The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,
And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage
To be o’erpowered.
1104
SHAKS.:  Richard II., Act v., Sc. 1.

=Lips.=

Her lips are roses over-washed with dew,
Or like the purple of Narcissus’ flower;
No frost their fair, no wind doth waste their power,
But by her breath her beauties do renew.
1105
ROBERT GREENE:  From Menaphon.  Menaphon’s Ecl.

=Little.=

Contented wi’ little, and cantie wi’ mair. 1106 BURNS:  Contented wi’ Little.

Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.
1107
GOLDSMITH:  The Hermit, Ch. viii., St. 8.

=Locks.=

Thou canst not say I did it; never shake
Thy gory locks at me.
1108
SHAKS.:  Macbeth, Act iii., Sc. 4.

John Anderson my jo, John,
  When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
  Your bonny brow was brent.
1109
BURNS:  John Anderson.

=Logic.=

He was in logic a great critic,
Profoundly skill’d in analytic;
He could distinguish and divide
A hair ’twixt south and south-west side.
1110
BUTLER:  Hudibras, Pt. i., Canto i., Line 65.

=London.=

London! the needy villain’s general home,
The common-sewer of Paris and of Rome! 
With eager thirst, by folly or by fate,
Sucks in the dregs of each corrupted state.
1111
DR. JOHNSON:  London, Line 83.

=Longings.=

I have
Immortal longings in me.
1112
SHAKS.:  Ant. and Cleo., Act v., Sc. 2.

=Looks.=

    My only books
    Were woman’s looks,—­
And folly ’s all they’ve taught me.
1113
MOORE:  The Time I’ve Lost in Wooing.

Where village statesmen talk’d with looks profound, And news much older than their ale went round. 1114 GOLDSMITH:  Des.  Village, Line 223.