The Sovereign Poem by Samuel Alfred Beadle

We have a mighty government of high and brilliant fame,
Triumphant we the suffrage wield and all our kith and kin;
And those who would the nation rule by equity, not awe,
Know the President is ruler only in the people's name;
For the sovereign is the people, and the people's will is law.


The voter he is royalized, his dame's a sovereign's queen,
The millions of them common heirs apparent to a throne,
Whose prowess is invincible, whose glory is supreme;
And whom they will they designate to wield the mace, I wean.
Their common heritage, the mace, rotation its regime.


And Washington, impregnable, did Freedom's glory set
Above the rage of passion and beyond ambition's blow;
And Lincoln died to keep it there, the honor of the West;
A government of commoners, that is triumphant yet
In the suffrage of the people, for the people's reign is best.


Yet Roosevelt brought us princely whims, and honor and renown;
And led the Russ and Japanese to pleasant fields to peace.
And sent our valiant fighting tars a spinning round the globe,
And boosted up the Cabinet, and held the Congress down,
And kept the trust contending with the governmental probe.


A brilliant man of letters, he eclipsed the fourth estate,
And kept the galleys flooded with his seas of manuscript,
So coached our representatives, with messages of whim,
The great became his echoist, 'My policies to prate,'
And everything spectacular was left to fate and him.


He found among our nation's hoards but one who tells the truth,
And he is wasting dictums on the Ananias clubs,
And holds in his opinion, and by all the rules of law,
Apparent is presumption and self-evident is proof,
That Harriman, and Tillman, and the World once made a draw.


All glory to the President, for truly he has rights
Which weaker mortals haven't got and wise ones wouldn't have,
For he can wield a mammoth club and wear his cap awry;
With fiction's greatness he can come, crazed by his frantic frights,
And frail the mischief out of many such as you and I.


Ay, truly is the President sagacious, great and wise,
Who keeps his soul in peace and reigns o'er eighty million kings
Who are themselves the common heirs and lords who emulate
The virtues of our patron sires who did to us devise
The tenue of the suffrage and the legacy of state.


The President is glorious, we think he is sublime,
Whene'er he represents the will of eighty million souls;
A commoner of commoners, by commoners enthroned,
And made the peer of all the kings of every age and clime,
Whose glory none will dare despoil, and none has yet disowned.


The patriots who built the realm, have in their will decreed,
The sceptre is the people's and among them shall rotate,
Till home rule is immortalized in ev'ry people's reign;
For royal blood's a fiction and all royalty's a creed,
And suffrage of the people still the hope of state and fane.


So here's to Mister President, and here's to Taft the man,
A commoner of commoners by commoners enthroned;
And here is to the commoners, my countrymen, my peers,
And here's to law and equity, to party and to clan,
And here's to equal suffrage in our government's careers.


God bless our common country, and preserve chief of state,
And solace him who has the charge, with all Thy gracious love;
Lest many should, perchance, forget this is the people's reign,
We pray Thee, Lord, to keep it so the sceptre shall rotate,
The common people e'er among in commonwealth and fane.