
| 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. |