He and his horse are matches for the strong Grace of proportion that inhabits both. They carry nothing that is in excess And nothing that is less than symmetry, The strength of Jackson is a hammered strength, Bearing the tool marks still. This strength was shaped By as hard arts but does not show the toil Except as justness, though the toil was there. —And so we get the marble man again, The head on the Greek coin, the idol-image, The shape who stands at Washington’s left hand, Worshipped, uncomprehended and aloof, A figure lost to flesh and blood and bones, Frozen into a legend out of life, A blank-verse statue⁠— How to humanize That solitary gentleness and strength Hidden behind the deadly oratory Of twenty thousand Lee Memorial days, How show, in spite of all the rhetoric, All the sick honey of the speechifiers, Proportion, not as something calm congealed From lack of fire, but ruling such a fire As only such proportion could contain?