Carl Sandburg (photo from nps.gov)

I have seen the figures of heroes set up as memorials, testimonies of fact-

Leif Ericson in a hard, deep-purple bronze, stands as a frozen shadow,

lean and with searching eyes, on a hill in Wisconsin overlooking Lake Michigan-

Columbus in bronze is the center of a turmoil of traffic from world ends gathered on Manhattan Island-

Washington stands in marble shaped from life, in old Romanesque temple on Capitol Hill,

in Richmond, Virginia, with an arrogant laughter heard from circling skyscrapers-

Andrew Jackson in bronze on a bronze horse, a rocking horse on its hind

legs with forepaws in the air, the tail brandishing, as the General lifts

a cockade from his head in salutation to the citizens and soldiers of

the Republic-

Ulysses S. Grant, somber and sober, is on a pony high in bronze listening

to the endless white horses of Lake Michigan talking to Illinois-

Robert E. Lee, recumbent in white stone, sleeps a bivouac sleep in peace

among loved ones of the southern Shenandoah Valley-

Lincoln’s memory is kept in a living, arterial highway moving across state

lines from coast to coast to the murmur, Be good to each other,

sisters; don’t fight, brothers.

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