Four great lovers rose in America …
One was hung:
One was shot:
One lived in solitude:
And one was jailed …
. . . . . . . . .
The prairies, the valleys and the mountains of the ages are remembered because of great lovers who were there …
Drums and flags lay the cæsars to rest,
But the muffled drums roll by, dying, and we let them die …
When the great lover dies, in silence,
His grave becomes the fragrant mouth of an ever-swelling song:
These are the songs by which we live,
These are the suns that shine on us, stars and moons that sprinkle our nights,
Winds of reviving May, rains of dry summer …
. . . . . . . . .
Gene Debs, this fragment song for you,
Living great lover through whom America lives.