TO A HISTORIANYOU who celebrate bygones,
Who have explored the outward, the surfaces of the races,
the life that has
Who have treated of man as the creature of politics, aggregates,
rulers and priests,
of the Alleghanies, treating of him as he is in himself
in his own rights,
Pressing the pulse of the life that
has seldom exhibited itself,
(the great pride of man in himself),
Chanter of Personality, outlining what is
yet to be,
I project the history of the future.
TO THEE OLD CAUSETo thee old cause!
Thou peerless, passionate, good cause,
Thou stern, remorseless, sweet idea,
throughout the ages, races, lands,
After a strange sad war, great war for thee,
(I think all war through time
was really fought, and ever will
be really fought, for thee,)
These chants for thee, the eternal march of
(A war O soldiers not for itself alone,
Far, far more stood silently waiting behind, now to advance
Thou orb of many orbs!
Thou seething principle! thou well-kept, latent germ! thou
Around the idea
of thee the war revolving,
With all its angry and vehement play of causes,
(With vast results to come for
thrice a thousand years,)
These recitatives for thee, my book and the war are one,
Merged in its spirit I
and mine, as the contest hinged on thee,
As a wheel on its axis turns, this book unwitting to itself,
the idea of thee.
MET a seer,
Passing the hues and objects of the world,
The fields of art and learning, pleasure, sense,
in thy chants said he,
No more the puzzling hour nor day, nor segments, parts, put
Put first before
the rest as light for all and entrance-song of all,
That of eidólons.
the dim beginning,
Ever the growth, the rounding of the circle,
Ever the summit and the merge at
last, (to surely start again,)
Ever materials, changing, crumbling, re-cohering,
Ever the ateliers, the factories divine,
I or you,
Or woman, man, or state, known or unknown,
We seeming solid wealth, strength, beauty
But really build eidólons.
The substance of an artist's mood or savan's studies long,
Or warrior's, martyr's,
To fashion his eidólon.
every human life,
(The units gather'd, posted, not a thought, emotion, deed, left out,)
The whole or
large or small summ'd, added up,
In its eidólon.
old, old urge,
Based on the ancient pinnacles, lo, newer, higher pinnacles,
From science and the
modern still impell'd,
The old, old urge, eidólons.
present now and here,
America's busy, teeming, intricate whirl,
Of aggregate and segregate for only
with the past,
Of vanish'd lands, of all the reigns of kings across the sea,
Old conquerors, old campaigns,
old sailor's voyages,