Leaves of grass (1872) | ||
TO THEE, OLD CAUSE!
1
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.
2
Thou orb of many orbs!Thou seething principle! Thou well-kept, latent germ! Thou centre!
12
With all its angry and vehement play of causes,
(With yet unknown 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.
Leaves of grass (1872) | ||