Listening to every heart
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead who struggled here have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us; that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion;that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation under God shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.
As for the why of my liking this, it is simply because Lincoln felt it would be forgotten. He did not write for posterity, he wrote for the moment. He spoke to the people, and I never forget, that We are still those people to whom he spoke. [And, because it always makes my throat close up when I read it, even in silence...]
Don't even begin to ask what current day writers I so enjoy...I'll be here all weekend naming poets of Passions...as well as published poets who don't yet know we exist...
Of my own? Pick one. That's it. If you pick it, then I'm smiling. But I would have to say, of my own, they would be those that treat me and my throat like Lincoln's address...I can't read them aloud...because they pull the emotion up too tight.
Interesting thread, Cap'n...I'm winking at your response, as well...