Poem

American-Born

Americans are born, not made; and they are not all born in America. The Americanization School in Washington, searching for these American-born among the immigrant races which we make shift to educate and assimilate, uses the American Hero as a touchstone— sometimes with quite miraculous results.

Not long ago the students were asked to write compositions on the lives of Lincoln and Washington; and a lad, one SAM COHEN, only lately come from Poland, and stumbling over our still alien speech, handed in these two ‘compositions.’

GEORGE WASHINGTON

I SEE him, he is before my eyes,
The rider who is hurrying to free his beloved.
Over fields and rivers he is flying on his horse.
A sword in his hand but his face is soft.
Not great is the number of his knights,
But great is their spirit that binds them together tight.
He is flying forward, forward, he is the commander, the eagle,
And they, the knights after him, hearing his command, hearing his call.
Conquering the enemy left and right,
Blood is running from them but their faces are bright
And he the commander, the eagle,
Does n’t care that a son of his father’s family falls.
Falls dead, not to live here again.
It does n’t matter to him, only one thing is in his brain,
To tear the chain and the beloved set, free
And with the leader’s mind who send him to agree.
He is flying forward, forward,
The commander, the eagle.
And they, the knights after him, hearing his command, hearing his call,
Are pushing the enemy and breaking the wall.
One minute and the Beloved is free.
O! How great is their happiness, I see!
What kind beauty, how she shines? Close your eyes,
Dark has come for her the sun in the skies.
Smiling is the commander, the eagle.
They, the knights, hearing her command, her call.
Take their commander on their hands
With her the beauty freedom to wed.
Look around, they are here!
You are breathing the air.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN

WHO is the man
Who learned the wisdom from mother nature,
Learned to write without a pen
And whose words were more than sure?
Whose words were for the people’s mind
Clear like the skies on summer days
And being so deep and bright
Like the flying birds that have n’t any way.
Who is as strong as the lion
And kind as the angels
Whose life it was that goes on
In one of the fairest tales.
Whose name you can hear from east to the west
From north to the south.
In the time when in the youth
Awakes the thoughts.
And from home he goes away
His fortune to try
His father’s lips tremble, when he says
See my son go on and be like Abraham Lincoln.

That familiar old battlepiece of Washington and his generals has waked the American spirit to sing in the heart of a Polish boy. No young descendant of Puritan or Virginia settlers could have struck a note more authentic: —

A sword in his hand but his face is soft.
Not great is the number of his knights,
But great is their spirit that binds them together tight.

And the words of Lincoln have unlocked the tongue of a ‘foreigner’ and made him free of a common language: —

Whose words were for the people’s mind
Clear like the skies on summer days.

To understanding hearts America need not fear to trust her heritage.