| HE is wisest who has the most caution, |
| He only wins who goes far enough. |
|
ANY thing is as good as established, when that is
established that will produce it and continue it. |
|
WHAT General has a good army in himself, has a
good army; |
|
He happy in himself, or she happy in herself, is
happy, |
|
But I tell you you cannot be happy by others, any
more than you can beget or conceive a child by others. |
|
HAVE you learned lessons only of those who admired
you, and were tender with you, and stood aside for you? |
|
Have you not learned the great lessons of those who
rejected you, and braced themselves against you? or who treated you with contempt, or disputed the passage with you? |
|
Have you had no practice to receive opponents when
they come? |
|
DESPAIRING cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and
night, |
|
The sad voice of Death—the call of my nearest
lover, putting forth, alarmed, uncertain, |
| This sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, |
|
Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my
destination . |
| I UNDERSTAND your anguish, but I cannot help you, |
|
I approach, hear, behold—the sad mouth, the look
out of the eyes, your mute inquiry, |
|
Whither I go from the bed I now recline on, come
tell me; |
|
Old age, alarmed, uncertain—A young woman's
voice appealing to me, for comfort, |
| A young man's voice, Shall I not escape? |
| A THOUSAND perfect men and women appear, |
|
Around each gathers a cluster of friends, and gay
children and youths, with offerings. |
| A MASK—a perpetual natural disguiser of herself, |
| Concealing her face, concealing her form, |
|
Changes and transformations every hour, every mo-
ment, |
| Falling upon her even when she sleeps. |
| ONE sweeps by, attended by an immense train, |
|
All emblematic of peace—not a soldier or menial
among them. |
|
ONE sweeps by, old, with black eyes, and profuse
white hair, |
|
He has the simple magnificence of health and
strength, |
|
His face strikes as with flashes of lightning whoever
it turns toward. |
|
THREE old men slowly pass, followed by three others,
and they by three others, |
|
They are beautiful—the one in the middle of each
group holds his companions by the hand, |
|
As they walk, they give out perfume wherever they
walk. |
|
WOMEN sit, or move to and fro—some old, some
young, |
|
The young are beautiful—but the old are more
beautiful than the young. |
| WHAT weeping face is that looking from the window? |
| Why does it stream those sorrowful tears? |
| Is it for some burial place, vast and dry? |
| Is it to wet the soil of graves? |
|
I WILL take an egg out of the robin's nest in the
orchard, |
|
I will take a branch of gooseberries from the old bush
in the garden, and go and preach to the world; |
|
You shall see I will not meet a single heretic or
scorner, |
|
You shall see how I stump clergymen, and confound
them, |
|
You shall see me showing a scarlet tomato, and a
white pebble from the beach. |
|
BEHAVIOR—fresh, native, copious, each one for him-
self or herself, |
|
Nature and the Soul expressed—America and free-
dom expressed—In it the finest art, |
|
In it pride, cleanliness, sympathy, to have their
chance, |
|
In it physique, intellect, faith—in it just as much as
to manage an army or a city, or to write a book —perhaps more, |
|
The youth, the laboring person, the poor person,
rivalling all the rest—perhaps outdoing the rest, |
| The effects of the universe no greater than its; |
|
For there is nothing in the whole universe that can
be more effective than a man's or woman's daily behavior can be, |
| In any position, in any one of These States. |
|
NOT the pilot has charged himself to bring his ship
into port, though beaten back, and many times baffled, |
|
Not the path-finder, penetrating inland, weary and
long, |
|
By deserts parched, snows chilled, rivers wet, per-
severes till he reaches his destination, |
|
More than I have charged myself, heeded or un-
heeded, to compose a free march for These States, |
|
To be exhilarating music to them, years, centuries
hence. |
| I THOUGHT I was not alone, walking here by the shore, |
|
But the one I thought was with me, as now I walk by
the shore, |
|
As I lean and look through the glimmering light—
that one has utterly disappeared, |
| And those appear that perplex me. |