Chant on, sail on, bear o'er the boundless blue from me to
every sea,
This song for mariners and all their ships.

TO FOREIGN LANDS

I HEARD that you ask'd for something to prove this puzzle the
New World,
And to define America, her athletic Democracy,
Therefore I send you my poems that you behold in them what
you wanted.

TO A HISTORIAN

You who celebrate bygones,
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, aggre-
gates, 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.

TO THEE, OLD CAUSE

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!

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