F. D. R. Poem by A. P. Herbert

(In Memoriam)
America, you miss a Man to-day,
And we will be Chief Mourners, if we may.
To-day, at least, his dearest wish is done,
For all the English speakers think as one.
But here's a wonder for the world to share,
The calm Colossus in a cripple's chair,
A suffering body with a single mind,
To serve America and save mankind.
Far off he saw the Devil on the way,
And wore the name of Neutral with dismay:
Could 'non-belligerent' more stoutly strive
To keep the last lone combatant alive?
This was the man who cried across the sea
'Great Britain's word is good enough for me.'
This was the man whose kindly ear would close
To all the fretting whispers of our foes.
Four times he faced the plotting and the polls:
Four times he led a hundred million souls.
Never in all the stories of the strong
Did man command such multitudes so long.
And when they bring him to the Golden Gate
Where men like Washington and Lincoln wait,
Of all the dead who served this little star
Not many will not bow to F. D. R.
April 15, 1945