TO A HISTORIAN
Who have explored the outward, the surfaces of the races,
the life that has exhibited itself,
Who have treated of man as the creature of politics, aggregates,
rulers and priests,
I, habitan 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.
1860 1871
TO THEE OLD CAUSE
Thou peerless, passionate, good cause,
Thou stern, remorseless, sweet idea,
Deathless 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 thee.
(A war O soldiers not for itself alone,
Far, far more stood silently waiting behind, now to advance
in this
book.)
Thou orb of many orbs!
Thou seething principle! thou well-kept, latent germ! thou
centre!
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,
Around
the idea of thee.
1871 1881
EIDÓLONS
Passing the hues and objects of the world,
The fields of art and learning, pleasure, sense,
To glean eidólons.
Put
in thy chants said he,
No more the puzzling hour nor day, nor segments, parts, put
in,
Put first before
the rest as light for all and entrance-song of all,
That of eidólons.
Ever
the dim beginning,
Ever the growth, the rounding of the circle,
Ever the summit and the merge at
last, (to surely start again,)
Eidólons! eidólons!
Ever
the mutable,
Ever materials, changing, crumbling, re-cohering,
Ever the ateliers, the factories divine,
Issuing
eidólons.
Lo,
I or you,
Or woman, man, or state, known or unknown,
We seeming solid wealth, strength, beauty
build,
But really build eidólons.
The
ostent evanescent,
The substance of an artist's mood or savan's studies long,
Or warrior's, martyr's,
hero's toils,
To fashion his eidólon.
Of
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.
The
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.
The
present now and here,
America's busy, teeming, intricate whirl,
Of aggregate and segregate for only
thence releasing,
To-day's eidólons.
These
with the past,
Of vanish'd lands, of all the reigns of kings across the sea,
Old conquerors, old campaigns,
old sailor's voyages,
Joining eidólons.
Densities,
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