| 1 WHAT shall I give? and which are my miracles? |
| 2 Realism is mine—my miracles—Take freely, |
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Take without end—I offer them to you wherever
your feet can carry you, or your eyes reach. |
| 3 Why! who makes much of a miracle? |
| As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles, |
| Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, |
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Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the
sky, |
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Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the
edge of the water, |
| Or stand under trees in the woods, |
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Or talk by day with any one I love—or sleep in the
bed at night with any one I love, |
| Or sit at the table at dinner with my mother, |
| Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car, |
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Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive, of a sum-
mer forenoon, |
| Or animals feeding in the fields, |
| Or birds—or the wonderfulness of insects in the air, |
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Or the wonderfulness of the sun-down—or of stars
shining so quiet and bright, |
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Or the exquisite, delicate, thin curve of the new-moon
in spring; |
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Or whether I go among those I like best, and that like
me best—mechanics, boatmen, farmers, |
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Or among the savans—or to the soiree—or to the
opera, |
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Or stand a long while looking at the movements of
machinery, |
| Or behold children at their sports, |
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Or the admirable sight of the perfect old man, or the
perfect old woman, |
| Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial, |
| Or my own eyes and figure in the glass, |
| These, with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles, |
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The whole referring—yet each distinct and in its
place. |
| 4 To me, every hour of the light and dark is miracle, |
| Every inch of space is a miracle, |
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Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread
with the same, |
| Every cubic foot of the interior swarms with the same; |
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Every spear of grass—the frames, limbs, organs, of
men and women, and all that concerns them, |
| All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles. |
| 5 To me the sea is a continual miracle, |
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The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the
waves—the ships, with men in them, |
| What stranger miracles are there? |