This is the breath for America, because it is my breath, This is for laws, songs, behavior, This is the tasteless water of Souls—this is the true sustenance. This is for the illiterate, and for the judges of the Supreme Court, and for the Federal capitol and the State capitols, And for the admirable communes of literats, composers, singers, lecturers, engineers, and savants, And for the endless races of work-people, farmers, and seamen.
This is the trilling of thousands of clear cornets, screaming of octave flutes, striking of triangles.
I play not here marches for victors only—I play great marches for conquered and slain persons.
Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? I also say it is good to fall—battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.
I beat triumphal drums for the dead, I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest music to them.
Vivas to those who have failed! And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea! And those themselves who sank in the sea! And to all generals that lost engagements! and all overcome heroes! And the numberless unknown heroes, equal to the greatest heroes known.
