Published Works In Whitman's Hand Life & Letters Commentary Resources Pictures & Sound About the Archive

contents   |   previous   |   next

View Page 391

MESSENGER LEAVES.

To You, Whoever You Are.

WHOEVER you are, I fear you are walking the walks of          dreams,

I fear those realities are to melt from under your feet          and hands;

Even now, your features, joys, speech, house, trade,          manners, troubles, follies, costume, crimes, dis-          sipate away from you,

Your true Soul and body appear before me,

They stand forth out of affairs—out of commerce,          shops, law, science, work, farms, clothes, the          house, medicine, print, buying, selling, eating,          drinking, suffering, dying.

2   Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you,          that you be my poem,

I whisper with my lips close to your ear,

I have loved many women and men, but I love none          better than you.

3   O I have been dilatory and dumb,

I should have made my way straight to you long ago,

I should have blabbed nothing but you, I should have          chanted nothing but you.

View Page 392

4   I will leave all, and come and make the hymns of          you;

None have understood you, but I understand you,

None have done justice to you—you have not done          justice to yourself,

None but have found you imperfect—I only find no          imperfection in you,

None but would subordinate you—I only am he who          will never consent to subordinate you,

I only am he who places over you no master, owner,          better, God, beyond what waits intrinsically in          yourself.

5   Painters have painted their swarming groups, and the          centre figure of all,

From the head of the centre figure spreading a nim-          bus of gold-colored light,

But I paint myriads of heads, but paint no head with-          out its nimbus of gold-colored light,

From my hand, from the brain of every man and          woman it streams, effulgently flowing forever.

6   O I could sing such grandeurs and glories about you!

You have not known what you are—you have slum-          bered upon yourself all your life,

Your eyelids have been the same as closed most of          the time,

What you have done returns already in mockeries,

Your thrift, knowledge, prayers, if they do not return          in mockeries, what is their return?

7   The mockeries are not you,

Underneath them, and within them, I see you lurk,

I pursue you where none else has pursued you,

View Page 393

Silence, the desk, the flippant expression, the night,          the accustomed routine, if these conceal you from          others, or from yourself, they do not conceal you          from me,

The shaved face, the unsteady eye, the impure com-          plexion, if these balk others, they do not balk          me,

The pert apparel, the deformed attitude, drunken-          ness, greed, premature death, all these I part          aside,

I track through your windings and turnings—I come          upon you where you thought eye should never          come upon you.

8   There is no endowment in man or woman that is not          tallied in you,

There is no virtue, no beauty, in man or woman, but          as good is in you,

No pluck, no endurance in others, but as good is          in you,

No pleasure waiting for others, but an equal pleasure          waits for you.

9   As for me, I give nothing to any one, except I give          the like carefully to you,

I sing the songs of the glory of none, not God, sooner          than I sing the songs of the glory of you.

10   Whoever you are! claim your own at any hazard!

These shows of the east and west are tame compared          to you,

These immense meadows—these interminable rivers          —you are immense and interminable as they,

View Page 394

These furies, elements, storms, motions of Nature,          throes of apparent dissolution—you are he or          she who is master or mistress over them,

Master or mistress in your own right over Nature,          elements, pain, passion, dissolution.

11   The hopples fall from your ankles—you find an un-          failing sufficiency,

Old or young, male or female, rude, low, rejected by          the rest, whatever you are promulges itself,

Through birth, life, death, burial, the means are pro-          vided, nothing is scanted,

Through angers, losses, ambition, ignorance, ennui,          what you are picks its way.

To a Foiled Revolter or Revoltress.

1   COURAGE! my brother or my sister!

Keep on! Liberty is to be subserved, whatever occurs;

That is nothing, that is quelled by one or two failures,          or any number of failures,

Or by the indifference or ingratitude of the people,          or by any unfaithfulness,

Or the show of the tushes of power—soldiers, cannon,          penal statutes.

2   What we believe in waits latent forever through          Asia, Africa, Europe, North and South America,          Australia, Cuba, and all the islands and archi-          pelagoes of the sea.

View Page 395

3   What we believe in invites no one, promises nothing,          sits in calmness and light, is positive and com-          posed, knows no discouragement,

Waits patiently its time—a year—a century—a          hundred centuries.

4   The battle rages with many a loud alarm and fre-          quent advance and retreat,

The infidel triumphs—or supposes he triumphs,

The prison, scaffold, garrote, hand-cuffs, iron necklace          and anklet, lead-balls, do their work,

The named and unnamed heroes pass to other          spheres,

The great speakers and writers are exiled—they lie          sick in distant lands,

The cause is asleep—the strongest throats are still,          choked with their own blood,

The young men drop their eyelashes toward the          ground when they meet,

But for all this, liberty has not gone out of the place,          nor the infidel entered into possession.

5   When liberty goes out of a place, it is not the first          to go, nor the second or third to go,

It waits for all the rest to go—it is the last.

6   When there are no more memories of the superb          lovers of the nations of the world,

The superb lovers' names scouted in the public          gatherings by the lips of the orators,

Boys not christened after them, but christened after          traitors and murderers instead,

View Page 396

Tyrants' and priests' successes really acknowledged          anywhere, for all the ostensible appearance,

You or I walking abroad upon the earth, elated at          the sight of slaves, no matter who they are,

And when all life, and all the Souls of men and women          are discharged from any part of the earth,

Then shall the instinct of liberty be discharged from          that part of the earth,

Then shall the infidel and the tyrant come into          possession.

7   Then courage!

For till all ceases, neither must you cease.

8   I do not know what you are for, (I do not what I am          for myself, nor what any thing is for,)

But I will search carefully for it in being foiled,

In defeat, poverty, imprisonment—for they too are          great.

9   Did we think victory great?

So it is—But now it seems to me, when it cannot be          helped, that defeat is great,

And that death and dismay are great.

View Page 397

To Him that was Crucified.

MY spirit to yours, dear brother,

Do not mind because many, sounding your name, do          not understand you,

I do not sound your name, but I understand you,          (there are others also;)

I specify you with joy, O my comrade, to salute you,          and to salute those who are with you, before and          since—and those to come also,

That we all labor together, transmitting the same          charge and succession;

We few, equals, indifferent of lands, indifferent of          times,

We, enclosers of all continents, all castes—allowers          of all theologies,

Compassionaters, perceivers, rapport of men,

We walk silent among disputes and assertions, but          reject not the disputers, nor any thing that is          asserted,

We hear the bawling and din—we are reached at          by divisions, jealousies, recriminations on every          side,

They close peremptorily upon us, to surround us,          my comrade,

Yet we walk unheld, free, the whole earth over,          journeying up and down, till we make our in-          effaceable mark upon time and the diverse eras,

Till we saturate time and eras, that the men and          women of races, ages to come, may prove breth-          ren and lovers, as we are.

View Page 398

To One shortly To Die.

1   FROM all the rest I single out you, having a message          for you:

You are to die—Let others tell you what they          please, I cannot prevaricate,

I am exact and merciless, but I love you—There is          no escape for you.

2   Softly I lay my right hand upon you—you just          feel it,

I do not argue—I bend my head close, and half-          envelop it,

I sit quietly by—I remain faithful,

I am more than nurse, more than parent or neighbor,

I absolve you from all except yourself, spiritual,          bodily—that is eternal,

(The corpse you will leave will be but excremen-          titious.)

3   The sun bursts through in unlooked-for directions!

Strong thoughts fill you, and confidence—you smile!

You forget you are sick, as I forget you are sick,

You do not see the medicines—you do not mind the          weeping friends—I am with you,

I exclude others from you—there is nothing to be          commiserated,

I do not commiserate—I congratulate you.

View Page 399

To a Common Prostitute.

1   BE composed—be at ease with me—I am Walt          Whitman, liberal and lusty as Nature,

Not till the sun excludes you, do I exclude you,

Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you, and the          leaves to rustle for you, do my words refuse to          glisten and rustle for you.

2   My girl, I appoint with you an appointment—and I          charge you that you make preparation to be          worthy to meet me,

And I charge you that you be patient and perfect till          I come.

3   Till then, I salute you with a significant look, that          you do not forget me.

To Rich Givers.

WHAT you give me, I cheerfully accept,

A little sustenance, a hut and garden, a little money          —these as I rendezvous with my poems,

A traveller's lodging and breakfast as I journey          through The States—Why should I be ashamed          to own such gifts? Why to advertise for them?

For I myself am not one who bestows nothing upon          man and woman,

For I know that what I bestow upon any man or          woman is no less than the entrance to all the          gifts of the universe.

View Page 400

To a Pupil.

1   IS reform needed? Is it through you?

The greater the reform needed, the greater the PER-          SONALITY you need to accomplish it.

2   You! do you not see how it would serve to have eyes,          blood, complexion, clean and sweet?

Do you not see how it would serve to have such a          body and Soul, that when you enter the crowd,          an atmosphere of desire and command enters          with you, and every one is impressed with your          personality?

3   O the magnet! the flesh over and over!

Go, mon cher! if need be, give up all else, and com-          mence to-day to inure yourself to pluck, reality,          self-esteem, definiteness, elevatedness,

Rest not, till you rivet and publish yourself of your          own personality.

To The States,
To Identify the 16th, 17th, or 18th Presidentiad.

WHY reclining, interrogating? Why myself and all          drowsing?

What deepening twilight! Scum floating atop of the          waters!

Who are they, as bats and night-dogs, askant in the          Capitol?

View Page 401

What a filthy Presidentiad! (O south, your torrid          suns! O north, your arctic freezings!)

Are those really Congressmen? Are those the great          Judges? Is that the President?

Then I will sleep a while yet—for I see that These          States sleep, for reasons;

(With gathering murk—with muttering thunder and          lambent shoots, we all duly awake,

South, north, east, west, inland and seaboard, we will          surely awake.)

To a Cantatrice.

HERE, take this gift!

I was reserving it for some hero, orator, or general,

One who should serve the good old cause, the prog-          ress and freedom of the race, the cause of          my Soul;

But I see that what I was reserving belongs to you          just as much as to any.

Walt Whitman's Caution.

TO The States, or any one of them, or any city of          The States, Resist much, obey little ,

Once unquestioning obedience, once fully enslaved,

Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city, of this          earth, ever afterward resumes its liberty.

View Page 402

To a President.

ALL you are doing and saying is to America dangled          mirages,

You have not learned of Nature—of the politics of          Nature, you have not learned the great ampli-          tude, rectitude, impartiality,

You have not seen that only such as they are for          These States,

And that what is less than they, must sooner or later          lift off from These States.

To other Lands.

I HEAR you have been asking for something to repre-          sent the new race, our self-poised Democracy,

Therefore I send you my poems, that you behold in          them what you wanted.

To Old Age.

I SEE in you the estuary that enlarges and spreads          itself grandly as it pours in the great sea.

View Page 403

To You.

LET us twain walk aside from the rest;

Now we are together privately, do you discard cer-          emony,

Come! vouchsafe to me what has yet been vouchsafed          to none—Tell me the whole story,

Tell me what you would not tell your brother, wife,          husband, or physician.

To You.

STRANGER! if you, passing, meet me, and desire to          speak to me, why should you not speak to me?

And why should I not speak to you?

contents   |   previous   |   next

Comments?

Published Works | In Whitman's Hand | Life & Letters | Commentary | Resources | Pictures & Sound

Support the Archive | About the Archive

Distributed under a Creative Commons License. Ed Folsom & Kenneth M. Price, editors.