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Leaves of Grass (1871-72)
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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;)
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| These chants for thee—the eternal march of thee. |
| Thou seething principle! Thou well-kept, latent germ! |
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Around the idea of thee the strange sad war revolv-
ing,
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| With all its angry and vehement play of causes, |
(With yet unknown results to come, for thrice a thou-
sand years,)
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These recitatives for thee—my Book and the War are
one,
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Merged in its spirit I and mine—as the contest hinged
on thee,
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As a wheel on its axis turns, this Book, unwitting to
itself,
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