To Thee Old Cause
To thee old cause! / Thou peerless, passionate, good cause,
One's-self I sing, a simple separate person,
Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse.
Of physiology from top to toe I sing,
Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy for the Muse, I say
the Form complete is worthier far,
The Female equally with the Male I sing.
Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power,
Cheerful, for freest action form'd under the laws divine,
The Modern Man I sing.
To thee old cause! / Thou peerless, passionate, good cause,
Approaching, nearing, curious, / Thou dim, uncertain spectre--bringest thou life or death?
Somehow I cannot let it go yet, funeral though it is, / Let it remain back there on its nail suspended,
Hush'd be the camps to-day, / And soldiers let us drape our war-worn weapons,