1865

Many years ago, in a house of neither brick nor stone,
Sat a young boy, just as ordinary as you or I alone.
By firelight and candles he taught himself well,
Not knowing that someday his words would be what brought us from this hell
 
As this young boy continued to grow,
His face would become one that is well known.
For years he would fight, using his words as weapons,
To earn what was right despite the unpopular opinion.
 
Winning the war, he properly set the tables square.
Charming the hearts of the public for the land of the free.
No one was as able and Honest as he.
 
One fateful evening, in his typical scene,
His life would be taken by the unforseen.
In his honor I write this to thee,
God bless America, the land of the Free.
This poem is about: 
My country

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