Vox Populi, Vox Dei

NOT in the flush of triumph, the pride of victory won,
Not ’mid applauding millions that claim thee for their own,
Not with pomp and glory, dost thou come to the crownless throne,
                 Roosevelt, Roosevelt.

But with heart oppressed with sorrow, and eyes o’er-filled with grief,
’Mid a little group of mourners, dost thou take the guard-relief,
And lift the heavy burden that fell from the murdered chief,
                 Roosevelt, Roosevelt.

Remember, for heart’s assurance, that cry of the people’s desire,
That shout of the great convention, swelling louder and higher,
Sweeping the leaders before it, as sweeps the prairie fire,
                 “Roosevelt! Roosevelt!”

From the prescient heart of the nation rolled out that mighty tide,
Crushing thine own reluctance, and the party leaders’ pride,
The call of God and the people, that could not be denied,
                 “Roosevelt! Roosevelt!”

DUBUQUE, IOWA.