American Executor: Abraham Lincoln

From humble ground where little seemed to rise,

He takes the chair in the nation’s darkest hour;

No royal blood, no ancient claim supplies

The strength required to wield executive power.

The Union stands beneath a storm’s great tower,

And every choice must test what he has planned—

He saves the Union with a steadfast hand.

The Constitution, written to restrain,

Now calls upon the office it defined;

The oath he swore must answer war and pain,

And hold the fractured nation still aligned—

He saves the Union with a steadfast hand.

The armies rise, the battlefields expand,

As brother fights against his brother’s cause;

The government must act, must now command,

Though every act is measured against laws.

He calls the troops beneath constitutional clauses,

And bears the weight no predecessor knew—

He saves the Union with a steadfast hand.

The courts may question, critics may condemn,

Yet duty drives the course he must pursue;

He holds the nation rather than the stem

Of power alone, as tyrants often do—

He saves the Union with a steadfast hand.

The proclamation changes war’s design,

Declaring freedom where rebellion thrives;

A moral purpose joins the battle line,

And gives new meaning to the nation’s lives.

The cause transforms as history’s current drives,

A promise written in the nation’s brand—

He saves the Union with a steadfast hand.

No crown adorns the office that he bears,

Yet greater powers now the crisis calls;

The president accepts the burdened cares

Of holding up the republic’s walls—

He saves the Union with a steadfast hand.

The war endures through years of blood and grief,

Through victories won and losses deeply paid;

The nation seeks a future of belief,

A peace where old divisions may be laid.

He speaks of mercy rather than crusade,

A gentler path for those who once had fought—

He saves the Union with a steadfast hand.

Yet even triumph carries shadows near,

For victory arrives with wounds unhealed;

The nation’s future rests upon his sphere,

A fragile peace that must now be revealed—

He saves the Union with a steadfast hand.

Then comes the night when violence takes its claim,

And ends the life that carried war’s great weight;

The office mourns, but history keeps his name,

A leader called when all seemed lost to fate.

His final task unfinished at the gate,

The Union saved, yet still to understand—

He saves the Union with a steadfast hand.

And from his service, future chiefs will learn

The reach and limits of executive might;

That power must serve the people in its turn,

And justify itself through truth and right—

He saves the Union with a steadfast hand.

Envoi:

O president who bore the nation’s strain,

You held the Union through its darkest night;

No crown was yours, yet greater weight you gained,

By using power to restore the nation’s light—

He saves the Union with a steadfast hand.