亞伯拉罕，林肯半夜行
    (在伊利諾斯斯普林費爾德)

多麼令人驚訝，多麼不尋常，

    夜半時分，在我們這小鎮上，

    一個悲哀的人一步也不停歇，

    踽踽獨行在古老的縣政府樓旁。

    或許他徘徊在自家宅邊，陰暗的庭院裏，

    他的孩子過去曾在那兒歡鬧嬉戲，

    或許他踏著磨損的石子路，穿過市場，

    大步行走直到星星化作晨曦。   

    臉色黝黑，個子瘦長一身黑色禮服，

    著名的大禮帽和用舊的圍巾，

    使他成為人們愛戴的奇偉人物

    ──草原律師，我們眾人的首領。

    此刻他無法在他的小山坡上安眠，

    一如往昔活在我們中間！

    我們這些輾轉不能入睡的居民，

    激動地看見他經過門前。

    他低頭沈思，想到民眾和皇帝。

    是啊，這世界因病痛叫喊，他又怎能安寢?

    有多少農民打仗，卻不知為什麼原因，

    有多少家庭在恐懼中哭泣。

    軍閥們的罪孽燒灼著他的心房，

    他看見一艘艘無畏戰艦橫行在海上。

    此刻他圍巾緊裹的雙肩，

    擔起了痛苦、愚行和悲傷。

    他不能安息，除非心靈的破曉來臨

    ──自由歐洲的希望大放光明：

    理智的人民結成同盟，工人的世界，

    給土地、高山和大海帶來持久和平。

    國王們仍在殺人害命，令他心碎，

    他為民眾漚心瀝血，一切努力皆似白費。

    有誰能帶來聖潔的和平，

    讓他在小山上安睡?

呆滯的目光

    且莫讓年輕人在大顯身手、創造奇蹟之前，

    就被壓得透不過氣來。

    這世界摧殘自己的孩子，真是罪孽，

    窮苦人似牛馬，步履蹣跚，目光發呆。

    可怕的不是他們食不果腹，而是在飢餓中失去了夢；

    可怕的不是他們辛勤耕種，而是他們難得收穫；

    可怕的不是他們侍候別人，而是沒有神靈可以侍奉；

    可怕的不是他們難免一死，而是死得像頭動物。

Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight
(In Springfield, Illinois)

A is portentous, and a thing of state
That here at midnight, in our little town
A mourning figure walks, and will not rest,
Near the old court-house pacing up and down,

Or by his homestead, or in shadowed yards
He lingers where his children used to play,
Or through the market, on the well-worn
      stones
He stalks until the dawn-stars burn away.

A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black,
A famous high top-hat and plain worn shawl
Make him the quaint great figure that men love,
The prairie-lawyer, master of us all.

He cannot sleep upon his hillside now.
He is among us:－as in times before!
And we who toss and lie awake for long
Breathe deep, and start, to see him pass the
      door.

His head is bowed. He thinks on men and
      kings.
Yea, when the sick world cries, how can he
      sleep?
Too many peasants fight, they know not why,
Too many homesteads in black terror weep.

The sins of all the war-lords burn his heart.
He sees the dreadnaughts scouring every main
He carries on his shawl-wrapped shoulders
      now
The bitterness, the folly and the pain.

He cannot rest until a spirit-dawn
Shall come;－the shining hope of Europe free
The league of sober folk, the Workers' Earth,
Bringing long peace to Cornland, Alp and Sea.

It breaks his heart that kings must murder still,
"That all his hours of travail here for men
Seem yet in vain. And who will bring white
      peace
That he may sleep upon his hill again?

The Leaden-Eyed

Let not young souls be smothered out before
They do quaint deeds and fully flaunt their
      pride.
It is the world's one crime its babes grow dull,
Its poor are oxlike, limp and leaden-eyed.
Not that they starve, but starve so dreamlessly;
Not that they sow, but that they seldom reap;
Not that they serve, but have no gods to serve;
Not that they die, but that they die like sheep.