“... The maker of the first equestrian statue in the history of American sculpture: Clark Mills.... Never having seen General Jackson or an equestrian statue, he felt himself incompetent ... the incident, however, made an impression on his mind, and he reflected sufficiently to produce a design which was the very one subsequently executed.... Congress appropriated the old cannon captured by General Jackson.... Having no notion, nor even suspicion of a dignified sculptural treatment of a theme, the clever carpenter felt, nevertheless, the need of a feature.... He built a colossal horse, adroitly balanced on the hind legs, and America gazed with bated breath. Nobody knows or cares whether the rider looks like Jackson or not. “The extraordinary pose of the horse absorbs all attention, all admiration. There may be some subconscious feeling of respect for a rider who holds on so well....” THE STATUE OF OLD ANDREW JACKSON _Written while America was in the midst of the war with Germany, August, 1918_ Andrew Jackson was eight feet tall. His arm was a hickory limb and a maul. His sword was so long he dragged it on the ground. Every friend was an equal. Every foe was a hound. Andrew Jackson was a Democrat, Defying kings in his old cocked hat. His vast steed rocked like a hobby horse. But he sat straight up. He held his course. He licked the British at Noo Orleens; Beat them out of their elegant jeans. He piled the cotton-bales twenty feet high, And he snorted “freedom,” and it flashed from his eye. And the American Eagle swooped through the air, And cheered when he heard the Jackson swear:-- “By the Eternal, let them come. Sound Yankee Doodle. Let the bullets hum.” And his wild men, straight from the woods, fought on Till the British fops were dead and gone. And now Old Andrew Jackson fights To set the sad big world to rights. He joins the British and the French. He cheers up the Italian trench. He’s making Democrats of these, And freedom’s sons of Japanese. His hobby horse will gallop on Till all the infernal Huns are gone. Yes, Yes, Yes! By the Eternal! Old Andrew Jackson! SEW THE FLAGS TOGETHER Great wave of youth, ere you be spent, Sweep over every monument Of caste, smash every high imperial wall That stands against the new World State, And overwhelm each ravening hate, And heal, and make blood-brothers of us all. Nor let your clamor cease Till ballots conquer guns. Drum on for the world’s peace Till the Tory power is gone. Envenomed lame old age Is not our heritage, But springtime’s vast release, and flaming dawn.