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III
The Coming of To-morrow to the American Democracy
And to-day,
My darlings,
Victory
Burns in his eye,
Our Democracy's dreams ride westward with him,
Around the bright world, in valor and pride,
For he has learned that the world is round,
And the cries for his reign in all nations abound.
My darlings,
Victory
Burns in his eye,
Our Democracy's dreams ride westward with him,
Around the bright world, in valor and pride,
For he has learned that the world is round,
And the cries for his reign in all nations abound.
So from Sun Mountain,
When cliff shadows deepen,
I look to the west
At sunset, at moonrise,
Beyond where the sun
Has ended its journey, and stars have begun,
And I sing my song in valor and pride,
How Jackson still on white horses will ride.
Looking into my campfire,
There on Sun Mountain,
A fiery fountain—
A hissing,
A showering,
A more and more unaccountable flowering!
I watch there all night
Till the last logs burn down,
And I see in the bright
Immaculate coals the Pacific foam;
I see in the bright
Immaculate coals Jackson's horses of white!
When cliff shadows deepen,
I look to the west
At sunset, at moonrise,
31
Has ended its journey, and stars have begun,
And I sing my song in valor and pride,
How Jackson still on white horses will ride.
Looking into my campfire,
There on Sun Mountain,
A fiery fountain—
A hissing,
A showering,
A more and more unaccountable flowering!
I watch there all night
Till the last logs burn down,
And I see in the bright
Immaculate coals the Pacific foam;
I see in the bright
Immaculate coals Jackson's horses of white!
Oh, horses in relays, horses in line,
Each steed has more splendor, fury more fine,
War horses, king horses, stallions divine!
He rides the Pacific on clouds red and white,
Our Democracy's children ride westward with him.
Each steed has more splendor, fury more fine,
War horses, king horses, stallions divine!
He rides the Pacific on clouds red and white,
Our Democracy's children ride westward with him.
Now the new west wind a loud song is singing
Again and again and again till the day:
“Some men are born saddled and bridled to be ridden,
Others born booted and spurred to ride.
I sing the song
Of Andrew Jackson,
Born
Booted and spurred to ride!
West Tennessee brought white horses for him,
Strong colts in relays,
White horses in line;
Each steed grew in splendor, with fury more fine—
War horses, king horses,
Stallions divine!
Then the Nation
Brought white horses for him
Old old,
Old old,
Andrew
Jackson!
Then Death brought white horses for him.”
Again and again and again till the day:
“Some men are born saddled and bridled to be ridden,
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I sing the song
Of Andrew Jackson,
Born
Booted and spurred to ride!
West Tennessee brought white horses for him,
Strong colts in relays,
White horses in line;
Each steed grew in splendor, with fury more fine—
War horses, king horses,
Stallions divine!
Then the Nation
Brought white horses for him
Old old,
Old old,
Andrew
Jackson!
Then Death brought white horses for him.”
And I lift my eyes from my all-night camp fire,
And I see him ride the high clouds of desire,
For he was born booted and spurred to ride—
Booted and spurred to ride!
My darlings,
Born
Booted and spurred
To ride!
And I see him ride the high clouds of desire,
For he was born booted and spurred to ride—
Booted and spurred to ride!
My darlings,
Born
33
To ride!
This oration was given for the Jefferson's Birthday Dinner, April 15, 1925, at Spokane, Washington, for the local organization of the Democratic party. It was a source of satisfaction to me to have it accepted definitely as a political oration for a definite party, and not as a parlor poem. It is to be read aloud, in the way one would read a political speech from the newspaper at election time, when such issues are really before the people.
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