We are the corpse behind the walls
That writes of sea and sky;
We are the individuals
Who obsoleted "I."
We are the men who turn the wheels --
Cohorts of Destinee!
We are the saints whom no one paints --
The Co-essential We!
We've hitched our dreams unto the stars
But, oh! the plural curse
Has quite absorbed our highest pars,
And commandeered our verse!
We are the sullen slaves who write
That all men may be free;
But, as I said, we're really dead --
Our coffin's labelled "WE"!
First published in The Bulletin, 14 May 1908
