Leaves of Grass (1860–1861)

  ppp.01500.001.jpg   ppp.01500.002.jpg   ppp.01500.003.jpg   ppp.01500.004.jpg   ppp.01500.005.jpg   ppp.01500.006.jpg   ppp.01500.007.jpg   ppp.01500.008.jpg   ppp.01500.009.jpg Leaves 
 of 
 Grass. Boston, Thayer and Eldridge, Year 85 of The States. (1860-61)   ppp.01500.010.jpg Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, BY WALT WHITMAN, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. ELECTROTYPED AT THE BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. PRINTED BY GEORGE C. RAND & AVERY.   [ begin page iii ]ppp.01500.011.jpg

CONTENTS.

	PAGE
PROTO-LEAF . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	5 . . to . . 22
WALT WHITMAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	23 . . . . . 104
CHANTS DEMOCRATIC
and Native American Numbers 1 . . to . . 21 . . . .	105 . . . . . 194
LEAVES OF GRASS . . Numbers 1 . . to . . 24 . . . .	195 . . to . . 242
SALUT AU MONDE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	243 . . . . . 258
POEM OF JOYS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	259 . . . . . 268
A WORD OUT OF THE SEA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	269 . . . . . 277
A Leaf of Faces . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	278 . . . . . 282
Europe, the 72d and 73d Years T. S. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	283
ENFANS D'ADAM . . . Numbers . 1 . . to . . 15 . . . .	287 . . to . . 314
POEM OF THE ROAD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	315 . . . . . 328
TO THE SAYERS OF WORDS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	329 . . . . . 336
A Boston Ballad, the 78th Year T. S. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	337
CALAMUS . . . . . . . . . Numbers . 1 . . to . . 45 . . . .	341 . . to . . 378
CROSSING BROOKLYN FERRY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	379 . . . . . 388
Longings for Home . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	389

MESSENGER LEAVES.
	PAGE		PAGE
To You, Whoever You Are . . . . .	391	To a Cantatrice . . . . . . . . . . .	401
To a foiled Revolter or Revoltress .	394	Walt Whitman's Caution . . . . . .	401
To Him That was Crucified . . . . .	397	To a President . . . . . . . . . . .	402
To One Shortly To Die . . . . . . .	398	To Other Lands . . . . . . . . . .	402
To a Common Prostitute . . . . . .	399	To Old Age . . . . . . . . . . . . .	402
To Rich Givers . . . . . . . . . . .	399	To You . . . . . . . . . . .	403
To a Pupil . . . . . . . . . . . . .	400	To You . . . . . . . . . . .	403
To The States, to Identify the 16th, 17th, or 18th Presidentiad . . .	400

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	PAGE
Mannahatta . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	404
France, the 18th Year T. S. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	406
THOUGHTS . . . . . Numbers . . 1 . . to . . 7 . . . . . . . . . .	408 . . to . . 411
Unnamed Lands . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	412
Kosmos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	414
A Hand Mirror . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	415
Beginners . . . . . . Tests . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	416
Savantism . . . . . . Perfections . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	417
Says . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	418
Debris . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	421
SLEEP-CHASINGS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	426 . . to . .439
BURIAL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	440 . . . . . 448
To My Soul . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	449
So long . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .	451

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PROTO-LEAF.

¹FREE, fresh, savage, Fluent, luxuriant, self-content, fond of persons and  
 places, Fond of fish-shape Paumanok, where I was born, Fond of the sea—lusty-begotten and various, Boy of the Mannahatta, the city of ships, my city, Or raised inland, or of the south savannas, Or full-breath'd on Californian air, or Texan or  
 Cuban air, Tallying, vocalizing all—resounding Niagara— 
 resounding Missouri, Or rude in my home in Kanuck woods, Or wandering and hunting, my drink water, my diet  
 meat, Or withdrawn to muse and meditate in some deep  
 recess, Far from the clank of crowds, an interval passing, 
 rapt and happy, Stars, vapor, snow, the hills, rocks, the Fifth Month  
 flowers, my amaze, my love, 1*   [ begin page 6 ]ppp.01500.014.jpg Aware of the buffalo, the peace-herds, the bull, 
 strong-breasted and hairy, Aware of the mocking-bird of the wilds at day- 
 break, Solitary, singing in the west, I strike up for a new  
 world. ²Victory, union, faith, identity, time, the Soul, your- 
 self, the present and future lands, the indisso- 
 luble compacts, riches, mystery, eternal progress, 
 the kosmos, and the modern reports. ³This then is life, Here is what has come to the surface after so many  
 throes and convulsions. ⁴How curious! How real! Underfoot the divine soil—Overhead the sun. ⁵See, revolving, The globe—the ancestor-continents, away, grouped  
 together, The present and future continents, north and south, 
 with the isthmus between. ⁶See, vast, trackless spaces, As in a dream, they change, they swiftly fill, Countless masses debouch upon them, They are now covered with the foremost people, arts, 
 institutions known. ⁷See projected, through time, For me, an audience interminable.   [ begin page 7 ]ppp.01500.015.jpg ⁸With firm and regular step they wend—they never  
 stop, Successions of men, Americanos, a hundred millions, One generation playing its part and passing on, And another generation playing its part and passing  
 on in its turn, With faces turned sideways or backward toward me  
 to listen, With eyes retrospective toward me. ⁹Americanos! Masters! Marches humanitarian! Foremost! Century marches! Libertad! Masses! For you a programme of chants. ¹⁰Chants of the prairies, Chants of the long-running Mississippi, Chants of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, Iowa, 
 and Minnesota, Inland chants—chants of Kanzas, Chants away down to Mexico, and up north to  
 Oregon—Kanadian chants, Chants of teeming and turbulent cities—chants of  
 mechanics, Yankee chants—Pennsylvanian chants—chants of  
 Kentucky and Tennessee, Chants of dim-lit mines—chants of mountain-tops, Chants of sailors—chants of the Eastern Sea and the  
 Western Sea, Chants of the Mannahatta, the place of my dearest  
 love, the place surrounded by hurried and  
 sparkling currents, Health chants—joy chants—robust chants of young  
 men,   [ begin page 8 ]ppp.01500.016.jpg Chants inclusive—wide reverberating chants, Chants of the Many In One. ¹¹In the Year 80 of The States, My tongue, every atom of my blood, formed from  
 this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here, From parents the same, and their parents' parents  
 the same, I, now thirty-six years old, in perfect health, 
 begin, Hoping to cease not till death. ¹²Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while, sufficed at what they are, but  
 never forgotten, With accumulations, now coming forward in front, Arrived again, I harbor, for good or bad—I permit  
 to speak, Nature, without check, with original energy. ¹³Take my leaves, America! Make welcome for them everywhere, for they are  
 your own offspring; Surround them, East and West! for they would  
 surround you, And you precedents! connect lovingly with them, for  
 they connect lovingly with you. ¹⁴I conned old times, I sat studying at the feet of the great masters; Now, if eligible, O that the great masters might  
 return and study me!   [ begin page 9 ]ppp.01500.017.jpg ¹⁵In the name of These States, shall I scorn the  
 antique? Why These are the children of the antique, to  
 justify it. ¹⁶Dead poets, philosophs, priests, Martyrs, artists, inventors, governments long since, Language-shapers, on other shores, Nations once powerful, now reduced, withdrawn, or  
 desolate, I dare not proceed till I respectfully credit what you  
 have left, wafted hither, I have perused it—I own it is admirable, I think nothing can ever be greater—Nothing can  
 ever deserve more than it deserves; I regard it all intently a long while, Then take my place for good with my own day and  
 race here. ¹⁷Here lands female and male, Here the heirship and heiress-ship of the world— 
 Here the flame of materials, Here Spirituality, the translatress, the openly-avowed, The ever-tending, the finale of visible forms, The satisfier, after due long-waiting, now advancing, Yes, here comes the mistress, the Soul. ¹⁸The SOUL! Forever and forever—Longer than soil is brown and  
 solid—Longer than water ebbs and flows. ¹⁹I will make the poems of materials, for I think they  
 are to be the most spiritual poems,   [ begin page 10 ]ppp.01500.018.jpg And I will make the poems of my body and of  
 mortality, For I think I shall then supply myself with the  
 poems of my Soul and of immortality. ²⁰I will make a song for These States, that no one  
 State may under any circumstances be subjected  
 to another State, And I will make a song that there shall be comity by  
 day and by night between all The States, and  
 between any two of them, And I will make a song of the organic bargains of  
 These States—And a shrill song of curses on  
 him who would dissever the Union; And I will make a song for the ears of the President, 
 full of weapons with menacing points, And behind the weapons countless dissatisfied faces. ²¹I will acknowledge contemporary lands, I will trail the whole geography of the globe, and  
 salute courteously every city large and small; And employments! I will put in my poems, that  
 with you is heroism, upon land and sea—And I  
 will report all heroism from an American point  
 of view; And sexual organs and acts! do you concentrate in  
 me—For I am determined to tell you with  
 courageous clear voice, to prove you illustrious. ²²I will sing the song of companionship, I will show what alone must compact These, I believe These are to found their own ideal of manly  
 love, indicating it in me;   [ begin page 11 ]ppp.01500.019.jpg I will therefore let flame from me the burning fires  
 that were threatening to consume me, I will lift what has too long kept down those smoul- 
 dering fires, I will give them complete abandonment, I will write the evangel-poem of comrades and  
 of love, (For who but I should understand love, with all its  
 sorrow and joy? And who but I should be the poet of comrades?) ²³I am the credulous man of qualities, ages, races, I advance from the people en-masse in their own  
 spirit, Here is what sings unrestricted faith. ²⁴Omnes! Omnes! Let others ignore what they may, I make the poem of evil also—I commemorate that  
 part also, I am myself just as much evil as good—And I say  
 there is in fact no evil, Or if there is, I say it is just as important to you, to  
 the earth, or to me, as anything else. ²⁵I too, following many, and followed by many, inau- 
 gurate a Religion—I too go to the wars, It may be I am destined to utter the loudest cries  
 thereof, the conqueror's shouts, They may rise from me yet, and soar above every  
 thing. ²⁶Each is not for its own sake, I say the whole earth, and all the stars in the sky, are  
 for Religion's sake.   [ begin page 12 ]ppp.01500.020.jpg ²⁷I say no man has ever been half devout enough, None has ever adored or worship'd half enough, None has begun to think how divine he himself is, 
 and how certain the future is. ²⁸I specifically announce that the real and perma- 
 nent grandeur of These States must be their  
 Religion, Otherwise there is no real and permanent grandeur. ²⁹What are you doing, young man? Are you so earnest—so given up to literature, 
 science, art, amours? These ostensible realities, materials, points? Your ambition or business, whatever it may be? ³⁰It is well—Against such I say not a word—I am  
 their poet also; But behold! such swiftly subside—burnt up for  
 Religion's sake, For not all matter is fuel to heat, impalpable flame, 
 the essential life of the earth, Any more than such are to Religion. ³¹What do you seek, so pensive and silent? What do you need, comrade? Mon cher! do you think it is love? ³²Proceed, comrade, It is a painful thing to love a man or woman to  
 excess—yet it satisfies—it is great, But there is something else very great—it makes the  
 whole coincide,   [ begin page 13 ]ppp.01500.021.jpg It, magnificent, beyond materials, with continuous  
 hands, sweeps and provides for all. ³³O I see the following poems are indeed to drop in the  
 earth the germs of a greater Religion. ³⁴My comrade! For you, to share with me, two greatnesses—And a  
 third one, rising inclusive and more resplendent, The greatness of Love and Democracy—and the  
 greatness of Religion. ³⁵Melange mine! Mysterious ocean where the streams empty, Prophetic spirit of materials shifting and flickering  
 around me, Wondrous interplay between the seen and unseen, Living beings, identities, now doubtless near us, in  
 the air, that we know not of, Extasy everywhere touching and thrilling me, Contact daily and hourly that will not release me, These selecting—These, in hints, demanded of me. ³⁶Not he, adhesive, kissing me so long with his daily  
 kiss, Has winded and twisted around me that which holds  
 me to him, Any more than I am held to the heavens, to the  
 spiritual world, And to the identities of the Gods, my unknown  
 lovers, After what they have done to me, suggesting  
 such themes.   [ begin page 14 ]ppp.01500.022.jpg ³⁷O such themes! Equalities! O amazement of things! O divine average! O warblings under the sun—ushered, as now, or at  
 noon, or setting! O strain, musical, flowing through ages—now  
 reaching hither, I take to your reckless and composite chords—I  
 add to them, and cheerfully pass them forward. ³⁸As I have walked in Alabama my morning walk, I have seen where the she-bird, the mocking-bird, sat  
 on her nest in the briers, hatching her brood. ³⁹I have seen the he-bird also, I have paused to hear him, near at hand, inflating his  
 throat, and joyfully singing. ⁴⁰And while I paused, it came to me that what he  
 really sang for was not there only, Nor for his mate nor himself only, nor all sent back  
 by the echoes, But subtle, clandestine, away beyond, A charge transmitted, and gift occult, for those  
 being born. ⁴¹Democracy! Near at hand to you a throat is now inflating itself  
 and joyfully singing. ⁴²Ma femme! For the brood beyond us and of us, For those who belong here, and those to come,   [ begin page 15 ]ppp.01500.023.jpg I, exultant, to be ready for them, will now shake out  
 carols stronger and haughtier than have ever yet  
 been heard upon the earth. ⁴³I will make the songs of passions, to give them  
 their way, And your songs, offenders—for I scan you with  
 kindred eyes, and carry you with me the same  
 as any. ⁴⁴I will make the true poem of riches, Namely, to earn for the body and the mind, what  
 adheres, and goes forward, and is not dropt by  
 death. ⁴⁵I will effuse egotism, and show it underlying all— 
 And I will be the bard of Personality; And I will show of male and female that either is but  
 the equal of the other, And I will show that there is no imperfection in male  
 or female, or in the earth, or in the present— 
 and can be none in the future, And I will show that whatever happens to anybody, it  
 may be turned to beautiful results—And I will  
 show that nothing can happen more beautiful  
 than death; And I will thread a thread through my poems that no  
 one thing in the universe is inferior to another  
 thing, And that all the things of the universe are perfect  
 miracles, each as profound as any.   [ begin page 16 ]ppp.01500.024.jpg ⁴⁶I will not make poems with reference to parts, But I will make leaves, poems, poemets, songs, says, 
 thoughts, with reference to ensemble; And I will not sing with reference to a day, but with  
 reference to all days, And I will not make a poem, nor the least part of  
 a poem, but has reference to the Soul, Because, having looked at the objects of the universe, 
 I find there is no one, nor any particle of one, 
 but has reference to the Soul. ⁴⁷Was somebody asking to see the Soul? See! your own shape and countenance—persons, 
 substances, beasts, the trees, the running rivers, 
 the rocks and sands. ⁴⁸All hold spiritual joys, and afterward loosen them, How can the real body ever die, and be buried? ⁴⁹Of your real body, and any man's or woman's real  
 body, item for item, it will elude the hands of  
 the corpse-cleaners, and pass to fitting spheres, 
 carrying what has accrued to it from the moment  
 of birth to the moment of death. ⁵⁰Not the types set up by the printer return their im- 
 pression, the meaning, the main concern, any  
 more than a man's substance and life, or a  
 woman's substance and life, return in the body  
 and the Soul, indifferently before death and  
 after death.   [ begin page 17 ]ppp.01500.025.jpg ⁵¹Behold! the body includes and is the meaning, the  
 main concern—and includes and is the Soul; Whoever you are! how superb and how divine is your  
 body, or any part of it. ⁵²Whoever you are! to you endless announcements. ⁵³Daughter of the lands, did you wait for your poet? Did you wait for one with a flowing mouth and  
 indicative hand? ⁵⁴Toward the male of The States, and toward the  
 female of The States, Toward the President, the Congress, the diverse Gov- 
 ernors, the new Judiciary, Live words—words to the lands. ⁵⁵O the lands! Lands scorning invaders! Interlinked, food-yielding  
 lands! Land of coal and iron! Land of gold! Lands of  
 cotton, sugar, rice! Odorous and sunny land! Floridian land! Land of the spinal river, the Mississippi! Land of  
 the Alleghanies! Ohio's land! Land of wheat, beef, pork! Land of wool and hemp! 
 Land of the potato, the apple, and the grape! Land of the pastoral plains, the grass-fields of the  
 world! Land of those sweet-aired interminable  
 plateaus! Land there of the herd, the garden, 
 the healthy house of adobie! Land there of rapt  
 thought, and of the realization of the stars! 
 Land of simple, holy, untamed lives! 2*   [ begin page 18 ]ppp.01500.026.jpg Lands where the northwest Columbia winds, and  
 where the southwest Colorado winds! Land of the Chesapeake! Land of the Delaware! Land of Ontario, Erie, Huron, Michigan! Land of the Old Thirteen! Massachusetts land! 
 Land of Vermont and Connecticut! Land of many oceans! Land of sierras and peaks! Land of boatmen and sailors! Fishermen's land! Inextricable lands! the clutched together! the  
 passionate lovers! The side by side! the elder and younger brothers! 
 the bony-limbed! The great women's land! the feminine! the ex- 
 perienced sisters and the inexperienced sisters! Far breath'd land! Arctic braced! Mexican breezed! 
 the diverse! the compact! The Pennsylvanian! the Virginian! the double  
 Carolinian! O all and each well-loved by me! my intrepid nations! 
 O I cannot be discharged from you! O Death! O for all that, I am yet of you, unseen, 
 this hour, with irrepressible love, Walking New England, a friend, a traveller, Splashing my bare feet in the edge of the summer  
 ripples, on Paumanok's sands, Crossing the prairies—dwelling again in Chicago— 
 dwelling in many towns, Observing shows, births, improvements, structures, 
 arts, Listening to the orators and the oratresses in public  
 halls, Of and through The States, as during life—each  
 man and woman my neighbor,   [ begin page 19 ]ppp.01500.027.jpg The Louisianian, the Georgian, as near to me, and I  
 as near to him and her, The Mississippian and Arkansian—the woman and  
 man of Utah, Dakotah, Nebraska, yet with me  
 —and I yet with any of them, Yet upon the plains west of the spinal river—yet  
 in my house of adobie, Yet returning eastward—yet in the Sea-Side State, 
 or in Maryland, Yet a child of the North—yet Kanadian, cheerily  
 braving the winter—the snow and ice welcome  
 to me, Yet a true son either of Maine, or of the Granite  
 State, or of the Narragansett Bay State, or of  
 the Empire State, Yet sailing to other shores to annex the same—yet  
 welcoming every new brother, Hereby applying these leaves to the new ones, from  
 the hour they unite with the old ones, Coming among the new ones myself, to be their  
 companion—coming personally to you now, Enjoining you to acts, characters, spectacles, with  
 me. ⁵⁶With me, with firm holding—yet haste, haste on. ⁵⁷For your life, adhere to me, Of all the men of the earth, I only can unloose you  
 and toughen you, I may have to be persuaded many times before I  
 consent to give myself to you—but what of  
 that? Must not Nature be persuaded many times?   [ begin page 20 ]ppp.01500.028.jpg ⁵⁸No dainty dolce affettuoso I; Bearded, sunburnt, gray-necked, forbidding, I have  
 arrived, To be wrestled with as I pass, for the solid prizes  
 of the universe, For such I afford whoever can persevere to win them. ⁵⁹On my way a moment I pause, Here for you! And here for America! Still the Present I raise aloft—Still the Future of  
 The States I harbinge, glad and sublime, And for the Past I pronounce what the air holds of  
 the red aborigines. ⁶⁰The red aborigines! Leaving natural breaths, sounds of rain and winds, 
 calls as of birds and animals in the woods, 
 syllabled to us for names, Okonee, Koosa, Ottawa, Monongahela, Sauk, Natchez, 
 Chattahoochee, Kaqueta, Oronoco. Wabash, Miami, Saginaw, Chippewa, Oshkosh, Walla- 
 Walla, Leaving such to The States, they melt, they depart, 
 charging the water and the land with names. ⁶¹O expanding and swift! O henceforth, Elements, breeds, adjustments, turbulent, quick, and  
 audacious, A world primal again—Vistas of glory, incessant  
 and branching, A new race, dominating previous ones, and grander  
 far, New politics—New literatures and religions—New  
 inventions and arts.   [ begin page 21 ]ppp.01500.029.jpg ⁶²These! These, my voice announcing—I will sleep  
 no more, but arise; You oceans that have been calm within me! how  
 I feel you, fathomless, stirring, preparing  
 unprecedented waves and storms. ⁶³See! steamers steaming through my poems! See, in my poems immigrants continually coming  
 and landing; See, in arriere, the wigwam, the trail, the hunter's  
 hut, the flat-boat, the maize-leaf, the claim, the  
 rude fence, and the backwoods village; See, on the one side the Western Sea, and on the  
 other side the Eastern Sea, how they advance  
 and retreat upon my poems, as upon their own  
 shores; See, pastures and forests in my poems—See, animals, 
 wild and tame—See, beyond the Kanzas, count- 
 less herds of buffalo, feeding on short curly  
 grass; See, in my poems, old and new cities, solid, vast, 
 inland, with paved streets, with iron and stone  
 edifices, and ceaseless vehicles, and commerce; See the populace, millions upon millions, handsome, 
 tall, muscular, both sexes, clothed in easy and  
 dignified clothes—teaching, commanding, mar- 
 rying, generating, equally electing and elective; See, the many-cylinder'd steam printing-press—See, 
 the electric telegraph—See, the strong and  
 quick locomotive, as it departs, panting, blowing  
 the steam-whistle; See, ploughmen, ploughing farms—See, miners, 
 digging mines—See, the numberless factories;   [ begin page 22 ]ppp.01500.030.jpg See, mechanics, busy at their benches, with tools— 
 See from among them, superior judges, philo- 
 sophs, Presidents, emerge, dressed in working  
 dresses; See, lounging through the shops and fields of The  
 States, me, well-beloved, close-held by day and  
 night, Hear the loud echo of my songs there! Read the  
 hints come at last. ⁶⁴O my comrade! O you and me at last—and us two only; O power, liberty, eternity at last! O to be relieved of distinctions! to make as much  
 of vices as virtues! O to level occupations and the sexes! O to bring  
 all to common ground! O adhesiveness! O the pensive aching to be together—you know not  
 why, and I know not why. ⁶⁵O a word to clear one's path ahead endlessly! O something extatic and undemonstrable! O music  
 wild! O now I triumph—and you shall also; O hand in hand—O wholesome pleasure—O one  
 more desirer and lover, O haste, firm holding—haste, haste on, with me.   [ begin page 23 ]ppp.01500.031.jpg

WALT WHITMAN.

¹I CELEBRATE myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs  
 to you. ²I loafe and invite my Soul, I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of  
 summer grass. ³Houses and rooms are full of perfumes—the shelves  
 are crowded with perfumes, I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and  
 like it, The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall  
 not let it. ⁴The atmosphere is not a perfume—it has no taste of  
 the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever—I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood, and become  
 undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be in contact with me.   [ begin page 24 ]ppp.01500.032.jpg ⁵The smoke of my own breath, Echoes, ripples, buzzed whispers, love-root, silk- 
 thread, crotch and vine, My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my  
 heart, the passing of blood and air through my  
 lungs, The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the  
 shore, and dark-colored sea-rocks, and of hay in  
 the barn, The sound of the belched words of my voice, words  
 loosed to the eddies of the wind, A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around  
 of arms, The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple  
 boughs wag, The delight alone, or in the rush of the streets, or  
 along the fields and hill-sides, The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of  
 me rising from bed and meeting the sun. ⁶Have you reckoned a thousand acres much? Have  
 you reckoned the earth much? Have you practised so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of  
 poems? ⁷Stop this day and night with me, and you shall pos- 
 sess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun— 
 there are millions of suns left, You shall no longer take things at second or third  
 hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, 
 nor feed on the spectres in books.   [ begin page 25 ]ppp.01500.033.jpg You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take  
 things from me, You shall listen to all sides, and filter them from  
 yourself. ⁸I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk  
 of the beginning and the end, But I do not talk of the beginning or the end. ⁹There was never any more inception than there is  
 now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is  
 now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now. ¹⁰Urge, and urge, and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world. ¹¹Out of the dimness opposite equals advance—always  
 substance and increase, always sex, Always a knit of identity—always distinction— 
 always a breed of life. ¹²To elaborate is no avail—learned and unlearned  
 feel that it is so. ¹³Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, 
 well entretied, braced in the beams, Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical, I and this mystery here we stand. ¹⁴Clear and sweet is my Soul, and clear and sweet is  
 all that is not my Soul.   [ begin page 26 ]ppp.01500.034.jpg ¹⁵Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the  
 seen, Till that becomes unseen, and receives proof in its  
 turn. ¹⁶Showing the best, and dividing it from the worst, age  
 vexes age, Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, 
 while they discuss I am silent, and go bathe  
 and admire myself. ¹⁷Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of  
 any man hearty and clean, Not an inch, nor a particle of an inch, is vile, and  
 none shall be less familiar than the rest. ¹⁸I am satisfied—I see, dance, laugh, sing; As the hugging and loving Bed-fellow sleeps at my  
 side through the night, and withdraws at the  
 peep of the day, And leaves for me baskets covered with white towels, 
 swelling the house with their plenty, Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization, and  
 scream at my eyes, That they turn from gazing after and down the road, And forthwith cipher and show me to a cent, Exactly the contents of one, and exactly the contents  
 of two, and which is ahead? ¹⁹Trippers and askers surround me, People I meet—the effect upon me of my early life, 
 or the ward and city I live in, or the nation,   [ begin page 27 ]ppp.01500.035.jpg The latest news, discoveries, inventions, societies, 
 authors old and new, My dinner, dress, associates, looks, work, compliments, 
 dues, The real or fancied indifference of some man or  
 woman I love, The sickness of one of my folks, or of myself, or  
 ill-doing, or loss or lack of money, or depressions  
 or exaltations, These come to me days and nights, and go from me  
 again, But they are not the Me myself. ²⁰Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, 
 unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an  
 impalpable certain rest, Looking with side-curved head, curious what will  
 come next, Both in and out of the game, and watching and  
 wondering at it. ²¹Backward I see in my own days where I sweated  
 through fog with linguists and contenders, I have no mockings or arguments—I witness and  
 wait. ²²I believe in you, my Soul—the other I am must  
 not abase itself to you, And you must not be abased to the other. ²³Loafe with me on the grass—loose the stop from  
 your throat,   [ begin page 28 ]ppp.01500.036.jpg Not words, not music or rhyme I want—not custom  
 or lecture, not even the best, Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice. ²⁴I mind how once we lay, such a transparent summer  
 morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips, and  
 gently turned over upon me, And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and  
 plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, And reached till you felt my beard, and reached till  
 you held my feet. ²⁵Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and  
 joy and knowledge that pass all the art and  
 argument of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of  
 my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of  
 my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, 
 and the women my sisters and lovers, And that a kelson of the creation is love, And limitless are leaves, stiff or drooping in the  
 fields, And brown ants in the little wells beneath them, And mossy scabs of the worm-fence, and heaped  
 stones, elder, mullen, and pokeweed. ²⁶A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me  
 with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what  
 it is, any more than he.   [ begin page 29 ]ppp.01500.037.jpg ²⁷I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of  
 hopeful green stuff woven. ²⁸Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer, designedly dropped, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, 
 that we may see and remark, and say Whose? ²⁹Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced  
 babe of the vegetation. ³⁰Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and  
 narrow zones, Growing among black folks as among white, Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them  
 the same, I receive them the same. ³¹And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of  
 graves. ³²Tenderly will I use you, curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young  
 men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved  
 them, It may be you are from old people, and from women, 
 and from offspring taken soon out of their  
 mothers' laps, And here you are the mothers' laps. ³³This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of  
 old mothers, Darker than the colorless beards of old men, 3*   [ begin page 30 ]ppp.01500.038.jpg Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of  
 mouths. ³⁴O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues! And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of  
 mouths for nothing. ³⁵I wish I could translate the hints about the dead  
 young men and women, And the hints about old men and mothers, and the  
 offspring taken soon out of their laps. ³⁶What do you think has become of the young and  
 old men? And what do you think has become of the women  
 and children? ³⁷They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was, it led forward life, and does  
 not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceased the moment life appeared. ³⁸All goes onward and outward—nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, 
 and luckier. ³⁹Has any one supposed it lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him or her, it is just as lucky to  
 die, and I know it. ⁴⁰I pass death with the dying, and birth with the new- 
 washed babe, and am not contained between my  
 hat and boots,   [ begin page 31 ]ppp.01500.039.jpg And peruse manifold objects, no two alike, and every  
 one good, The earth good, and the stars good, and their  
 adjuncts all good. ⁴¹I am not an earth, nor an adjunct of an earth, I am the mate and companion of people, all just as  
 immortal and fathomless as myself; They do not know how immortal, but I know. ⁴²Every kind for itself and its own—for me mine, male  
 and female, For me those that have been boys, and that love  
 women, For me the man that is proud, and feels how it stings  
 to be slighted, For me the sweetheart and the old maid—for me  
 mothers, and the mothers of mothers, For me lips that have smiled, eyes that have shed  
 tears, For me children, and the begetters of children. ⁴³Who need be afraid of the merge? Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale, nor  
 discarded, I see through the broadcloth and gingham, whether  
 or no, And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and  
 can never be shaken away. ⁴⁴The little one sleeps in its cradle, I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently  
 brush away flies with my hand.   [ begin page 32 ]ppp.01500.040.jpg ⁴⁵The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up  
 the bushy hill, I peeringly view them from the top. ⁴⁶The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the  
 bedroom; It is so—I witnessed the corpse—there the pistol  
 had fallen. ⁴⁷The blab of the pave, the tires of carts, sluff of boot- 
 soles, talk of the promenaders, The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating  
 thumb, the clank of the shod horses on the  
 granite floor, The snow-sleighs, the clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of  
 snow-balls, The hurrahs for popular favorites, the fury of roused  
 mobs, The flap of the curtained litter, a sick man inside, 
 borne to the hospital, The meeting of enemies, the sudden oath, the blows  
 and fall, The excited crowd, the policeman with his star, 
 quickly working his passage to the centre of  
 the crowd, The impassive stones that receive and return so many  
 echoes, The Souls moving along—(are they invisible, while  
 the least of the stones is visible?) What groans of over-fed or half-starved who fall sun- 
 struck, or in fits, What exclamations of women taken suddenly, who  
 hurry home and give birth to babes,   [ begin page 33 ]ppp.01500.041.jpg What living and buried speech is always vibrating  
 here—what howls restrained by decorum, Arrests of criminals, slights, adulterous offers made, 
 acceptances, rejections with convex lips, I mind them or the show or resonance of them—I  
 come and I depart. ⁴⁸The big doors of the country-barn stand open and  
 ready, The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow- 
 drawn wagon, The clear light plays on the brown gray and green  
 intertinged, The armfuls are packed to the sagging mow. ⁴⁹I am there—I help—I came stretched atop of the  
 load, I felt its soft jolts—one leg reclined on the other; I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and  
 timothy, And roll head over heels, and tangle my hair full of  
 wisps. ⁵⁰Alone, far in the wilds and mountains, I hunt, Wandering, amazed at my own lightness and glee, In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the  
 night, Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-killed game, Soundly falling asleep on the gathered leaves, with  
 my dog and gun by my side. ⁵¹The Yankee clipper is under her three sky-sails— 
 she cuts the sparkle and scud,   [ begin page 34 ]ppp.01500.042.jpg My eyes settle the land—I bend at her prow, or shout  
 joyously from the deck. ⁵²The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and  
 stopped for me, I tucked my trowser-ends in my boots, and went and  
 had a good time; You should have been with us that day round the  
 chowder-kettle. ⁵³I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in  
 the far-west—the bride was a red girl, Her father and his friends sat near, cross-legged and  
 dumbly smoking—they had moccasons to their  
 feet, and large thick blankets hanging from their  
 shoulders; On a bank lounged the trapper—he was dressed  
 mostly in skins—his luxuriant beard and curls  
 protected his neck, One hand rested on his rifle—the other hand held  
 firmly the wrist of the red girl, She had long eyelashes—her head was bare—her  
 coarse straight locks descended upon her volup- 
 tuous limbs and reached to her feet. ⁵⁴The runaway slave came to my house and stopped  
 outside, I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the wood- 
 pile, Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw  
 him limpsy and weak, And went where he sat on a log, and led him in and  
 assured him,   [ begin page 35 ]ppp.01500.043.jpg And brought water, and filled a tub for his sweated  
 body and bruised feet, And gave him a room that entered from my own, and  
 gave him some coarse clean clothes, And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and  
 his awkwardness, And remember putting plasters on the galls of his  
 neck and ankles; He staid with me a week before he was recuperated  
 and passed north, I had him sit next me at table—my fire-lock leaned  
 in the corner. ⁵⁵Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore, Twenty-eight young men, and all so friendly; Twenty-eight years of womanly life, and all so  
 lonesome. ⁵⁶She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank, She hides, handsome and richly drest, aft the blinds  
 of the window. ⁵⁷Which of the young men does she like the best? Ah, the homeliest of them is beautiful to her. ⁵⁸Where are you off to, lady? for I see you, You splash in the water there, yet stay stock still in  
 your room. ⁵⁹Dancing and laughing along the beach came the  
 twenty-ninth bather, The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved  
 them.   [ begin page 36 ]ppp.01500.044.jpg ⁶⁰The beards of the young men glistened with wet, it  
 ran from their long hair, Little streams passed all over their bodies. ⁶¹An unseen hand also passed over their bodies, It descended tremblingly from their temples and  
 ribs. ⁶²The young men float on their backs—their white  
 bellies bulge to the sun—they do not ask who  
 seizes fast to them, They do not know who puffs and declines with  
 pendant and bending arch, They do not think whom they souse with spray. ⁶³The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharp- 
 ens his knife at the stall in the market, I loiter, enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and  
 break-down. ⁶⁴Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the  
 anvil, Each has his main-sledge—they are all out—there  
 is a great heat in the fire. ⁶⁵From the cinder-strewed threshold I follow their  
 movements, The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their  
 massive arms, Overhand the hammers roll—overhand so slow— 
 overhand so sure, They do not hasten—each man hits in his place.   [ begin page 37 ]ppp.01500.045.jpg ⁶⁶The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses  
 —the blocks swags underneath on its tied-over  
 chain, The negro that drives the huge dray of the stone-yard  
 —steady and tall he stands, poised on one leg on  
 the string-piece, His blue shirt exposes his ample neck and breast, and  
 loosens over his hip-band, His glance is calm and commanding—he tosses the  
 slouch of his hat away from his forehead, The sun falls on his crispy hair and moustache— 
 falls on the black of his polished and perfect  
 limbs. ⁶⁷I behold the picturesque giant and love him—and  
 I do not stop there, I go with the team also. ⁶⁸In me the caresser of life wherever moving—back- 
 ward as well as forward slueing, To niches aside and junior bending. ⁶⁹Oxen that rattle the yoke or halt in the shade! what  
 is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in  
 my life. ⁷⁰My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck, on  
 my distant and day-long ramble, They rise together—they slowly circle around. ⁷¹I believe in those winged purposes, And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within  
 me,   [ begin page 38 ]ppp.01500.046.jpg And consider green and violet, and the tufted crown, 
 intentional, And do not call the tortoise unworthy because she is  
 not something else, And the mocking-bird in the swamp never studied the  
 gamut, yet trills pretty well to me, And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out  
 of me. ⁷²The wild gander leads his flock through the cool  
 night, Ya-honk! he says, and sounds it down to me like an  
 invitation; The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listen  
 close, I find its purpose and place up there toward the  
 wintry sky. ⁷³The sharp-hoofed moose of the north, the cat on the  
 house-sill, the chickadee, the prairie-dog, The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her  
 teats, The brood of the turkey-hen, and she with her half- 
 spread wings, I see in them and myself the same old law. ⁷⁴The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred  
 affections, They scorn the best I can do to relate them. ⁷⁵I am enamoured of growing outdoors. Of men that live among cattle, or taste of the ocean  
 or woods,   [ begin page 39 ]ppp.01500.047.jpg Of the builders and steerers of ships, and the wielders  
 of axes and mauls, and the drivers of horses, I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out. ⁷⁶What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me, Me going in for my chances, spending for vast  
 returns, Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that  
 will take me, Not asking the sky to come down to my good will, Scattering it freely forever. ⁷⁷The pure contralto sings in the organ loft, The carpenter dresses his plank—the tongue of his  
 foreplane whistles its wild ascending lisp, The married and unmarried children ride home to  
 their Thanksgiving dinner, The pilot seizes the king-pin—he heaves down with  
 a strong arm, The mate stands braced in the whale-boat—lance  
 and harpoon are ready, The duck-shooter walks by silent and cautious  
 stretches, The deacons are ordained with crossed hands at the  
 altar, The spinning-girl retreats and advances to the hum  
 of the big wheel, The farmer stops by the bars, as he walks on a First  
 Day loafe, and looks at the oats and rye, The lunatic is carried at last to the asylum, a con- 
 firmed case, He will never sleep any more as he did in the cot in  
 his mother's bedroom;   [ begin page 40 ]ppp.01500.048.jpg The jour printer with gray head and gaunt jaws  
 works at his case, He turns his quid of tobacco, while his eyes blurr  
 with the manuscript; The malformed limbs are tied to the anatomist's  
 table, What is removed drops horribly in a pail; The quadroon girl is sold at the stand—the drunkard  
 nods by the bar-room stove, The machinist rolls up his sleeves—the policeman  
 travels his beat—the gate-keeper marks who  
 pass, The young fellow drives the express-wagon—I love  
 him, though I do not know him, The half-breed straps on his light boots to compete  
 in the race, The western turkey-shooting draws old and young— 
 some lean on their rifles, some sit on logs, Out from the crowd steps the marksman, takes his  
 position, levels his piece; The groups of newly-come emigrants cover the wharf  
 or levee, As the woolly-pates hoe in the sugar-field, the over- 
 seer views them from his saddle, The bugle calls in the ball-room, the gentlemen run  
 for their partners, the dancers bow to each other, The youth lies awake in the cedar-roofed garret, and  
 harks to the musical rain, The Wolverine sets traps on the creek that helps fill  
 the Huron, The reformer ascends the platform, he spouts with  
 his mouth and nose,   [ begin page 41 ]ppp.01500.049.jpg The company returns from its excursion, the darkey  
 brings up the rear and bears the well-riddled  
 target, The squaw, wrapt in her yellow-hemmed cloth, is  
 offering moccasons and bead-bags for sale, The connoisseur peers along the exhibition-gallery  
 with half-shut eyes bent side-ways, As the deck-hands make fast the steamboat, the plank  
 is thrown for the shore-going passengers, The young sister holds out the skein, while the elder  
 sister winds it off in a ball, and stops now and  
 then for the knots, The one-year wife is recovering and happy, having  
 a week ago borne her first child, The clean-haired Yankee girl works with her sewing- 
 machine, or in the factory or mill, The nine months' gone is in the parturition chamber, 
 her faintness and pains are advancing, The paving-man leans on his two-handed rammer  
 —the reporter's lead flies swiftly over the note- 
 book—the sign-painter is lettering with red and  
 gold, The canal-boy trots on the tow-path—the bookkeeper  
 counts at his desk—the shoemaker waxes his  
 thread, The conductor beats time for the band, and all the  
 performers follow him, The child is baptized—the convert is making his first  
 professions, The regatta is spread on the bay—how the white  
 sails sparkle! The drover, watching his drove, sings out to them that  
 would stray, 4*   [ begin page 42 ]ppp.01500.050.jpg The pedler sweats with his pack on his back, the  
 purchaser higgling about the odd cent, The camera and plate are prepared, the lady must sit  
 for her daguerreotype, The bride unrumples her white dress, the minute- 
 hand of the clock moves slowly, The opium-eater reclines with rigid head and just- 
 opened lips, The prostitute draggles her shawl, her bonnet bobs on  
 her tipsy and pimpled neck, The crowd laugh at her blackguard oaths, the men  
 jeer and wink to each other, (Miserable!-I do not laugh at your oaths, nor jeer  
 you;) The President, holding a cabinet council, is sur- 
 rounded by the Great Secretaries, On the piazza walk five friendly matrons with twined  
 arms, The crew of the fish-smack pack repeated layers of  
 halibut in the hold, The Missourian crosses the plains, toting his wares  
 and his cattle, As the fare-collector goes through the train, he gives  
 notice by the jingling of loose change, The floor-men are laying the floor—the tinners are  
 tinning the roof—the masons are calling for  
 mortar, In single file, each shouldering his hod, pass onward  
 the laborers, Seasons pursuing each other, the indescribable crowd  
 is gathered—it is the Fourth of Seventh Month  
 —What salutes of cannon and small arms!   [ begin page 43 ]ppp.01500.051.jpg Seasons pursuing each other, the plougher ploughs, 
 the mower mows, and the winter-grain falls in  
 the ground, Off on the lakes the pike-fisher watches and waits by  
 the hole in the frozen surface, The stumps stand thick round the clearing, the  
 squatter strikes deep with his axe, Flatboatmen make fast, towards dusk, near the cotton- 
 wood or pekan-trees, Coon-seekers go through the regions of the Red river, 
 or through those drained by the Tennessee, or  
 through those of the Arkansaw, Torches shine in the dark that hangs on the Chatta- 
 hooche or Altamahaw, Patriarchs sit at supper with sons and grandsons and  
 great-grandsons around them, In walls of adobie, in canvas tents, rest hunters and  
 trappers after their day's sport, The city sleeps and the country sleeps, The living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for  
 their time, The old husband sleeps by his wife, and the young  
 husband sleeps by his wife; And these one and all tend inward to me, and I tend  
 outward to them, And such as it is to be of these, more or less, I am. ⁷⁸I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the  
 wise, Regardless of others, ever regardful of others, Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man, Stuffed with the stuff that is coarse, and stuffed with  
 the stuff that is fine,   [ begin page 44 ]ppp.01500.052.jpg One of the great nation, the nation of many nations, 
 the smallest the same, and the largest the same, A southerner soon as a northerner, a planter non- 
 chalant and hospitable, A Yankee, bound my own way, ready for trade, my  
 joints the limberest joints on earth and the  
 sternest joints on earth, A Kentuckian, walking the vale of the Elkhorn in  
 my deer-skin leggings, A boatman over lakes or bays, or along coasts—a  
 Hoosier, Badger, Buckeye, A Louisianian or Georgian—a Poke-easy from sand- 
 hills and pines, At home on Kanadian snow-shoes, or up in the bush, 
 or with fishermen off Newfoundland, At home in the fleet of ice-boats, sailing with the rest, 
 and tacking, At home on the hills of Vermont, or in the woods  
 of Maine, or the Texan ranch, Comrade of Californians—comrade of free north- 
 westerners, and loving their big proportions, Comrade of raftsmen and coalmen—comrade of all  
 who shake hands and welcome to drink and  
 meat, A learner with the simplest, a teacher of the thought- 
 fullest, A novice beginning, yet experient of myriads of  
 seasons, Of every hue, trade, rank, caste and religion, Not merely of the New World, but of Africa, Europe, 
 Asia—a wandering savage, A farmer, mechanic, artist, gentleman, sailor, lover, 
 quaker,   [ begin page 45 ]ppp.01500.053.jpg A prisoner, fancy-man, rowdy, lawyer, physician, 
 priest. ⁷⁹I resist anything better than my own diversity, And breathe the air, and leave plenty after me, And am not stuck up, and am in my place. ⁸⁰The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place, The suns I see, and the suns I cannot see, are in their  
 place, The palpable is in its place, and the impalpable is in  
 its place. ⁸¹These are the thoughts of all men in all ages and  
 lands—they are not original with me, If they are not yours as much as mine, they are  
 nothing, or next to nothing, If they do not enclose everything, they are next to  
 nothing, If they are not the riddle and the untying of the  
 riddle, they are nothing, If they are not just as close as they are distant, they  
 are nothing. ⁸²This is the grass that grows wherever the land is  
 and the water is, This is the common air that bathes the globe. ⁸³This is the breath for America, because it is my  
 breath, This is for laws, songs, behavior, This is the tasteless water of Souls—this is the true  
 sustenance.   [ begin page 46 ]ppp.01500.054.jpg ⁸⁴This is for the illiterate, and for the judges of the  
 Supreme Court, and for the Federal capitol and  
 the State capitols, And for the admirable communes of literats, com- 
 posers, singers, lecturers, engineers, and savans, And for the endless races of work-people, farmers, 
 and seamen. ⁸⁵This is the trilling of thousands of clear cornets, 
 screaming of octave flutes, striking of triangles. ⁸⁶I play not here marches for victors only—I play  
 great marches for conquered and slain persons. ⁸⁷Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? I also say it is good to fall—battles are lost in the  
 same spirit in which they are won. ⁸⁸I beat triumphal drums for the dead, I blow through my embouchures my loudest and  
 gayest music to them. ⁸⁹Vivas to those who have failed! And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea! And those themselves who sank in the sea! And to all generals that lost engagements! and all  
 overcome heroes! And the numberless unknown heroes, equal to the  
 greatest heroes known. ⁹⁰This is the meal pleasantly set—this is the meat and  
 drink for natural hunger, It is for the wicked just the same as the righteous—I  
 make appointments with all,   [ begin page 47 ]ppp.01500.055.jpg I will not have a single person slighted or left away, The kept-woman, sponger, thief, are hereby invited, The heavy-lipped slave is invited—the venerealee is  
 invited, There shall be no difference between them and the  
 rest. ⁹¹This is the press of a bashful hand—this is the float  
 and odor of hair, This is the touch of my lips to yours—this is the  
 murmur of yearning, This is the far-off depth and height reflecting my  
 own face, This is the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet  
 again. ⁹²Do you guess I have some intricate purpose? Well, I have—for the Fourth Month showers have, 
 and the mica on the side of a rock has. ⁹³Do you take it I would astonish? Does the daylight astonish? Does the early redstart, 
 twittering through the woods? Do I astonish more than they? ⁹⁴This hour I tell things in confidence, I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you. ⁹⁵Who goes there! hankering, gross, mystical, nude? How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat? ⁹⁶What is a man anyhow? What am I? What are  
 you?   [ begin page 48 ]ppp.01500.056.jpg ⁹⁷All I mark as my own, you shall offset it with your  
 own, Else it were time lost listening to me. ⁹⁸I do not snivel that snivel the world over, That months are vacuums, and the ground but  
 wallow and filth, That life is a suck and a sell, and nothing remains at  
 the end but threadbare crape, and tears. ⁹⁹Whimpering and truckling fold with powders for  
 invalids—conformity goes to the fourth-removed, I cock my hat as I please, indoors or out. ¹⁰⁰Why should I pray? Why should I venerate and be  
  ceremonious? ¹⁰¹Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, 
 counsell'd with doctors, and calculated close, I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones. ¹⁰²In all people I see myself—none more, and not one a  
 barleycorn less, And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them. ¹⁰³And I know I am solid and sound, To me the converging objects of the universe per- 
 petually flow, All are written to me, and I must get what the  
 writing means. ¹⁰⁴I know I am deathless, 
 I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a  
 carpenter's compass,   [ begin page 49 ]ppp.01500.057.jpg I know I shall not pass like a child's carlacue cut  
 with a burnt stick at night. ¹⁰⁵I know I am august, I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be  
 understood, I see that the elementary laws never apologize, I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant  
 my house by, after all. ¹⁰⁶I exist as I am—that is enough, If no other in the world be aware, I sit content, And if each and all be aware, I sit content. ¹⁰⁷One world is aware, and by far the largest to me, and  
 that is myself, And whether I come to my own to-day, or in ten  
 thousand or ten million years, I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerful- 
 ness I can wait ¹⁰⁸My foothold is tenoned and mortised in granite, I laugh at what you call dissolution, And I know the amplitude of time. ¹⁰⁹I am the poet of the body, And I am the poet of the Soul. ¹¹⁰The pleasures of heaven are with me, and the pains  
 of hell are with me, The first I graft and increase upon myself—the latter  
 I translate into a new tongue. 5   [ begin page 50 ]ppp.01500.058.jpg ¹¹¹I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a  
 man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother  
 of men. ¹¹²I chant the chant of dilation or pride, We have had ducking and deprecating about enough, I show that size is only development. ¹¹³Have you outstript the rest? Are you the President? It is a trifle—they will more than arrive there every  
 one, and still pass on. ¹¹⁴I am He that walks with the tender and growing  
 Night, I call to the earth and sea, half-held by the Night. ¹¹⁵Press close, bare-bosomed Night! Press close, mag- 
 netic, nourishing Night! Night of south winds! Night of the large few stars! Still, nodding night! Mad, naked, summer night. ¹¹⁶Smile, O voluptuous, cool-breathed Earth! Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees! Earth of departed sunset! Earth of the mountains, 
 misty-topt! Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon, just  
 tinged with blue! Earth of shine and dark, mottling the tide of the  
 river! Earth of the limpid gray of clouds, brighter and  
 clearer for my sake!   [ begin page 51 ]ppp.01500.059.jpg Far-swooping elbowed Earth! Rich, apple-blossomed  
 Earth! Smile, for YOUR LOVER comes! ¹¹⁷Prodigal, you have given me love! Therefore I to  
 you give love! O unspeakable passionate love! ¹¹⁸Thruster holding me tight, and that I hold tight! We hurt each other as the bridegroom and the bride  
 hurt each other. ¹¹⁹You Sea! I resign myself to you also—I guess  
 what you mean, I behold from the beach your crooked inviting fingers, I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me; We must have a turn together—I undress—hurry  
 me out of sight of the land, Cushion me soft, rock me in billowy drowse, Dash me with amorous wet—I can repay you. ¹²⁰Sea of stretched ground-swells! Sea breathing broad and convulsive breaths! Sea of the brine of life! Sea of unshovelled and  
 always-ready graves! Howler and scooper of storms! Capricious and dainty  
 Sea! I am integral with you—I too am of one phase, and  
 of all phases. ¹²¹Partaker of influx and efflux—extoller of hate and  
 conciliation, Extoller of amies, and those that sleep in each others' 
 arms.   [ begin page 52 ]ppp.01500.060.jpg ¹²²I am he attesting sympathy, Shall I make my list of things in the house, and skip  
 the house that supports them? ¹²³I am the poet of common sense, and of the demon- 
 strable, and of immortality, And am not the poet of goodness only—I do not  
 decline to be the poet of wickedness also. ¹²⁴Washes and razors for foofoos—for me freckles and  
 a bristling beard. ¹²⁵What blurt is this about virtue and about vice? Evil propels me, and reform of evil propels me—I  
 stand indifferent, My gait is no fault-finder's or rejecter's gait, I moisten the roots of all that has grown. ¹²⁶Did you fear some scrofula out of the unflagging  
 pregnancy? Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be worked  
 over and rectified? ¹²⁷I step up to say that what we do is right, and what  
 we affirm is right—and some is only the ore of  
 right, Witnesses of us—one side a balance, and the antip- 
 odal side a balance, Soft doctrine as steady help as stable doctrine, Thoughts and deeds of the present, our rouse and  
 early start. ¹²⁸This minute that comes to me over the past decillions, There is no better than it and now.   [ begin page 53 ]ppp.01500.061.jpg ¹²⁹What behaved well in the past, or behaves well  
 to-day, is not such a wonder, The wonder is, always and always, how can there be  
 a mean man or an infidel. ¹³⁰Endless unfolding of words of ages! And mine a word of the modern—a word en-masse. ¹³¹A word of the faith that never balks, One time as good as another time—here or hence- 
 forward, it is all the same to me. ¹³²A word of reality—materialism first and last im- 
 buing. ¹³³Hurrah for positive Science! long live exact demon- 
 stration! Fetch stonecrop, mixt with cedar and branches of  
 lilac, This is the lexicographer—this the chemist—this  
 made a grammar of the old cartouches, These mariners put the ship through dangerous un- 
 known seas, This is the geologist—this works with the scalpel— 
 and this is a mathematician. ¹³⁴Gentlemen! I receive you, and attach and clasp  
 hands with you, The facts are useful and real—they are not my  
 dwelling—I enter by them to an area of the  
 dwelling. ¹³⁵I am less the reminder of property or qualities, and  
 more the reminder of life,   [ begin page 54 ]ppp.01500.062.jpg And go on the square for my own sake and for others' 
 sakes, And make short account of neuters and geldings, and  
 favor men and women fully equipped, And beat the gong of revolt, and stop with fugitives, 
 and them that plot and conspire. ¹³⁶Walt Whitman, an American, one of the roughs, a  
 kosmos, Disorderly, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking, breeding, No sentimentalist—no stander above men and wo- 
 men, or apart from them, No more modest than immodest. ¹³⁷Unscrew the locks from the doors! Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs! ¹³⁸Whoever degrades another degrades me, And whatever is done or said returns at last to me, And whatever I do or say, I also return. ¹³⁹Through me the afflatus surging and surging— 
 through me the current and index. ¹⁴⁰I speak the pass-word primeval—I give the sign of  
 democracy, By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have  
 their counterpart of on the same terms. ¹⁴¹Through me many long dumb voices, Voices of the interminable generations of slaves, Voices of prostitutes, and of deformed persons, Voices of the diseased and despairing, and of thieves  
 and dwarfs,   [ begin page 55 ]ppp.01500.063.jpg Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion, And of the threads that connect the stars—and of  
 wombs, and of the fatherstuff, And of the rights of them the others are down upon, Of the trivial, flat, foolish, despised, Fog in the air, beetles rolling balls of dung. ¹⁴²Through me forbidden voices, Voices of sexes and lusts—voices veiled, and I  
 remove the veil, Voices indecent, by me clarified and transfigured. ¹⁴³I do not press my finger across my mouth, I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the  
 head and heart, Copulation is no more rank to me than death is. ¹⁴⁴I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part  
 and tag of me is a miracle. ¹⁴⁵Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy what- 
 ever I touch or am touched from, The scent of these arm-pits, aroma finer than prayer, This head more than churches, bibles, and all the  
 creeds. ¹⁴⁶If I worship any particular thing, it shall be some of  
 the spread of my own body. ¹⁴⁷Translucent mould of me, it shall be you! Shaded ledges and rests, it shall be you! Firm masculine colter, it shall be you.   [ begin page 56 ]ppp.01500.064.jpg ¹⁴⁸Whatever goes to the tilth of me, it shall be you! You my rich blood! Your milky stream, pale strip- 
 pings of my life. ¹⁴⁹Breast that presses against other breasts, it shall be  
 you! My brain, it shall be your occult convolutions. ¹⁵⁰Root of washed sweet-flag! Timorous pond-snipe! 
 Nest of guarded duplicate eggs! it shall be  
 you! Mixed tussled hay of head, beard, brawn, it shall  
 be you! Trickling sap of maple! Fibre of manly wheat! it  
 shall be you! ¹⁵¹Sun so generous, it shall be you! Vapors lighting and shading my face, it shall be  
 you! You sweaty brooks and dews, it shall be you! Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me, it  
 shall be you! Broad, muscular fields! Branches of live oak! Lov- 
 ing lounger in my winding paths! it shall be  
 you! Hands I have taken—face I have kissed—mortal I  
 have ever touched! it shall be you. ¹⁵²I dote on myself—there is that lot of me, and all so  
 luscious, Each moment, and whatever happens, thrills me with  
 joy.   [ begin page 57 ]ppp.01500.065.jpg ¹⁵³O I am so wonderful! I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the  
 cause of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the friendship I emit, nor the cause  
 of the friendship I take again. ¹⁵⁴That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it  
 really be, That I eat and drink is spectacle enough for the great  
 authors and schools, A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than  
 the metaphysics of books. ¹⁵⁵To behold the day-break! The little light fades the immense and diaphanous  
 shadows, The air tastes good to my palate. ¹⁵⁶Hefts of the moving world, at innocent gambols, 
 silently rising, freshly exuding, Scooting obliquely high and low. ¹⁵⁷Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous  
 prongs, Seas of bright juice suffuse heaven. ¹⁵⁸The earth by the sky staid with—the daily close of  
 their junction, The heaved challenge from the east that moment over  
 my head, The mocking taunt, See then whether you shall be  
 master!   [ begin page 58 ]ppp.01500.066.jpg ¹⁵⁹Dazzling and tremendous, how quick the sun-rise  
 would kill me, If I could not now and always send sun-rise out  
 of me. ¹⁶⁰We also ascend, dazzling and tremendous as the sun, We found our own, O my Soul, in the calm and cool  
 of the day-break. ¹⁶¹My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds, and  
 volumes of worlds. ¹⁶²Speech is the twin of my vision—it is unequal to  
 measure itself; It provokes me forever, It says sarcastically, Walt, you understand enough— 
  why don't you let it out then? ¹⁶³Come now, I will not be tantalized—you conceive  
 too much of articulation. ¹⁶⁴Do you not know how the buds beneath are folded? Waiting in gloom, protected by frost, The dirt receding before my prophetical screams, I underlying causes, to balance them at last, My knowledge my live parts—it keeping tally with  
 the meaning of things, Happiness—which, whoever hears me, let him or her  
 set out in search of this day. ¹⁶⁵My final merit I refuse you—I refuse putting from  
 me the best I am.   [ begin page 59 ]ppp.01500.067.jpg ¹⁶⁶Encompass worlds, but never try to encompass me, I crowd your sleekest talk by simply looking toward  
 you. ¹⁶⁷Writing and talk do not prove me, I carry the plenum of proof, and everything else, in  
 my face, With the hush of my lips I confound the topmost  
 skeptic. ¹⁶⁸I think I will do nothing for a long time but listen, To accrue what I hear into myself—to let sounds  
 contribute toward me. ¹⁶⁹I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, 
 gossip of flames, clack of sticks cooking my  
 meals. ¹⁷⁰I hear the sound I love, the sound of the human  
 voice, I hear all sounds running together, combined, fused  
 or following, Sounds of the city and sounds out of the city— 
 sounds of the day and night, Talkative young ones to those that like them—the  
 recitative of fish-pedlers and fruit-pedlers—the  
 loud laugh of work-people at their meals, The angry base of disjointed friendship—the faint  
 tones of the sick, The judge with hands tight to the desk, his shaky lips  
 pronouncing a death-sentence, The heave'e'yo of stevedores unlading ships by the  
 wharves—the refrain of the anchor-lifters,   [ begin page 60 ]ppp.01500.068.jpg The ring of alarm-bells—the cry of fire—the whirr  
 of swift-streaking engines and hose-carts, with  
 premonitory tinkles, and colored lights, The steam-whistle—the solid roll of the train of  
 approaching cars, The slow-march played at night at the head of the  
 association, marching two and two, (They go to guard some corpse—the flag-tops are  
 draped with black muslin.) ¹⁷¹I hear the violoncello, or man's heart's complaint; I hear the keyed cornet—it glides quickly in through  
 my ears, It shakes mad-sweet pangs through my belly and  
 breast. ¹⁷²I hear the chorus—it is a grand-opera, Ah, this indeed is music! This suits me. ¹⁷³A tenor large and fresh as the creation fills me, The orbic flex of his mouth is pouring and filling  
 me full. ¹⁷⁴I hear the trained soprano—she convulses me like  
 the climax of my love-grip, The orchestra wrenches such ardors from me, I did  
 not know I possessed them, It throbs me to gulps of the farthest down horror, It sails me—I dab with bare feet—they are licked  
 by the indolent waves, I am exposed, cut by bitter and poisoned hail, Steeped amid honeyed morphine, my windpipe throt- 
 tled in fakes of death,   [ begin page 61 ]ppp.01500.069.jpg At length let up again to feel the puzzle of puzzles, And that we call BEING. ¹⁷⁵To be in any form—what is that? (Round and round we go, all of us, and ever come  
 back thither,) If nothing lay more developed, the quahaug in its  
 callous shell were enough. ¹⁷⁶Mine is no callous shell, I have instant conductors all over me, whether I pass  
 or stop, They seize every object, and lead it harmlessly  
 through me. ¹⁷⁷I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am  
 happy, To touch my person to some one else's is about as  
 much as I can stand. ¹⁷⁸Is this then a touch? quivering me to a new identity, Flames and ether making a rush for my veins, Treacherous tip of me reaching and crowding to  
 help them, My flesh and blood playing out lightning to strike  
 what is hardly different from myself, On all sides prurient provokers stiffening my limbs, Straining the udder of my heart for its withheld  
 drip, Behaving licentious toward me, taking no denial, Depriving me of my best, as for a purpose, Unbuttoning my clothes, holding me by the bare  
 waist, 6   [ begin page 62 ]ppp.01500.070.jpg Deluding my confusion with the calm of the sun-light  
 and pasture-fields, Immodestly sliding the fellow-senses away, They bribed to swap off with touch, and go and graze  
 at the edges of me, No consideration, no regard for my draining strength  
 or my anger, Fetching the rest of the herd around to enjoy them  
 a while, Then all uniting to stand on a headland and worry  
 me. ¹⁷⁹The sentries desert every other part of me, They have left me helpless to a red marauder, They all come to the headland, to witness and assist  
 against me. ¹⁸⁰I am given up by traitors, I talk wildly—I have lost my wits—I and nobody  
 else am the greatest traitor, I went myself first to the headland—my own hands  
 carried me there. ¹⁸¹You villain touch! what are you doing? My breath  
 is tight in its throat, Unclench your floodgates! you are too much for me. ¹⁸²Blind, loving, wrestling touch! sheathed, hooded, 
 sharp-toothed touch! Did it make you ache so, leaving me? ¹⁸³Parting, tracked by arriving—perpetual payment of  
 perpetual loan,   [ begin page 63 ]ppp.01500.071.jpg Rich showering rain, and recompense richer after- 
 ward. ¹⁸⁴Sprouts take and accumulate—stand by the curb  
 prolific and vital, Landscapes, projected, masculine, full-sized, and  
 golden. ¹⁸⁵All truths wait in all things, They neither hasten their own delivery, nor resist it, They do not need the obstetric forceps of the  
 surgeon, The insignificant is as big to me as any, What is less or more than a touch? ¹⁸⁶Logic and sermons never convince, The damp of the night drives deeper into my Soul. ¹⁸⁷Only what proves itself to every man and woman  
 is so, Only what nobody denies is so. ¹⁸⁸A minute and a drop of me settle my brain, I believe the soggy clods shall become lovers and  
 lamps, And a compend of compends is the meat of a man or  
 woman, And a summit and flower there is the feeling they  
 have for each other, And they are to branch boundlessly out of that lesson  
 until it becomes omnific, And until every one shall delight us, and we them.   [ begin page 64 ]ppp.01500.072.jpg ¹⁸⁹I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey- 
 work of the stars, And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of  
 sand, and the egg of the wren, And the tree-toad is a chef-d'œuvre for the highest, And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors  
 of heaven, And the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all  
 machinery, And the cow crunching with depressed head surpasses  
 any statue, And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions  
 of infidels, And I could come every afternoon of my life to look  
 at the farmer's girl boiling her iron tea-kettle  
 and baking short-cake. ¹⁹⁰I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, 
 fruits, grains, esculent roots, And am stuccoed with quadrupeds and birds all over, And have distanced what is behind me for good  
 reasons, And call anything close again, when I desire it. ¹⁹¹In vain the speeding or shyness, In vain the plutonic rocks send their old heat against  
 my approach, In vain the mastodon retreats beneath its own pow- 
 dered bones, In vain objects stand leagues off, and assume manifold  
 shapes, In vain the ocean settling in hollows, and the great  
 monsters lying low,   [ begin page 65 ]ppp.01500.073.jpg In vain the buzzard houses herself with the sky, In vain the snake slides through the creepers and  
 logs, In vain the elk takes to the inner passes of the  
 woods, In vain the razor-billed auk sails far north to  
 Labrador, I follow quickly, I ascend to the nest in the fissure  
 of the cliff. ¹⁹²I think I could turn and live with animals, they are  
 so placid and self-contained, I stand and look at them sometimes an hour at a  
 stretch. ¹⁹³They do not sweat and whine about their condition, They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their  
 sins, They do not make me sick discussing their duty to  
 God, No one is dissatisfied—not one is demented with the  
 mania of owning things, Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived  
 thousands of years ago, Not one is respectable or industrious over the whole  
 earth. ¹⁹⁴So they show their relations to me, and I accept  
 them, They bring me tokens of myself—they evince them  
 plainly in their possession. ¹⁹⁵I do not know where they get those tokens, 6*   [ begin page 66 ]ppp.01500.074.jpg I may have passed that way untold times ago, and  
 negligently dropt them, Myself moving forward then and now forever, Gathering and showing more always and with  
 velocity, Infinite and omnigenous, and the like of these among  
 them, Not too exclusive toward the reachers of my remem- 
 brancers, Picking out here one that I love, to go with on  
 brotherly terms. ¹⁹⁶A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive  
 to my caresses, Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears, Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground, Eyes well apart, full of sparkling wickedness—ears  
 finely cut, flexibly moving. ¹⁹⁷His nostrils dilate, as my heels embrace him, His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure, as we  
 speed around and return. ¹⁹⁸I but use you a moment, then I resign you stallion, Why do I need your paces, when I myself out-gallop  
 them? Even, as I stand or sit, passing faster than you. ¹⁹⁹O swift wind! Space! my Soul! now I know it is  
 true, what I guessed at, What I guessed when I loafed on the grass, What I guessed while I lay alone in my bed, And again as I walked the beach under the paling  
 stars of the morning.   [ begin page 67 ]ppp.01500.075.jpg ²⁰⁰My ties and ballasts leave me—I travel—I sail— 
 my elbows rest in the sea-gaps, I skirt the sierras—my palms cover continents, I am afoot with my vision. ²⁰¹By the city's quadrangular houses—in log huts— 
 camping with lumbermen, Along the ruts of the turnpike—along the dry gulch  
 and rivulet bed, Weeding my onion-patch, or hoeing rows of carrots  
 and parsnips—crossing savannas—trailing in  
 forests, Prospecting—gold-digging—girdling the trees of a  
 new purchase, Scorched ankle-deep by the hot sand—hauling my  
 boat down the shallow river, Where the panther walks to and fro on a limb over- 
 head—Where the buck turns furiously at the  
 hunter, Where the rattlesnake suns his flabby length on a  
 rock—Where the otter is feeding on fish, Where the alligator in his tough pimples sleeps by the  
 bayou, Where the black bear is searching for roots or honey  
 —Where the beaver pats the mud with his  
 paddle-tail, Over the growing sugar—over the cotton plant— 
 over the rice in its low moist field, Over the sharp-peaked farm house, with its scalloped  
 scum and slender shoots from the gutters, Over the western persimmon—over the long-leaved  
 corn—over the delicate blue-flowered flax, Over the white and brown buckwheat, a hummer  
 and buzzer there with the rest,   [ begin page 68 ]ppp.01500.076.jpg Over the dusky green of the rye as it ripples and  
 shades in the breeze, Scaling mountains, pulling myself cautiously up, 
 holding on by low scragged limbs, Walking the path worn in the grass and beat through  
 the leaves of the brush, Where the quail is whistling betwixt the woods and  
 the wheat-lot, Where the bat flies in the Seventh Month eve— Where the great gold-bug drops through the  
 dark, Where the flails keep time on the barn floor, Where the brook puts out of the roots of the old tree  
 and flows to the meadow, Where cattle stand and shake away flies with the  
 tremulous shuddering of their hides, Where the cheese-cloth hangs in the kitchen—Where  
 andirons straddle the hearth-slab—Where cob- 
 webs fall in festoons from the rafters, Where trip-hammers crash—Where the press is  
 whirling its cylinders, Wherever the human heart beats with terrible throes  
 out of its ribs, Where the pear-shaped balloon is floating aloft, float- 
 ing in it myself and looking composedly down, Where the life-car is drawn on the slip-noose—Where  
 the heat hatches pale-green eggs in the dented  
 sand, Where the she-whale swims with her calf, and never  
 forsakes it, Where the steam-ship trails hind-ways its long pen- 
 nant of smoke, Where the fin of the shark cuts like a black chip out  
 of the water,   [ begin page 69 ]ppp.01500.077.jpg Where the half-burned brig is riding on unknown  
 currents, Where shells grow to her slimy deck—Where the  
 dead are corrupting below, Where the striped and starred flag is borne at the  
 head of the regiments, Approaching Manhattan, up by the long-stretching  
 island, Under Niagara, the cataract falling like a veil over  
 my countenance, Upon a door-step—upon the horse-block of hard  
 wood outside, Upon the race-course, or enjoying picnics or jigs, or  
 a good game of base-ball, At he-festivals, with blackguard gibes, ironical license, 
 bull-dances, drinking, laughter, At the cider-mill, tasting the sweet of the brown  
 sqush, sucking the juice through a straw, At apple-peelings, wanting kisses for all the red fruit  
 I find, At musters, beach-parties, friendly bees, huskings, 
 house-raisings; Where the mocking-bird sounds his delicious gur- 
 gles, cackles, screams, weeps, Where the hay-rick stands in the barn-yard—Where  
 the dry-stalks are scattered—Where the brood  
 cow waits in the hovel, Where the bull advances to do his masculine work— 
 Where the stud to the mare—Where the cock  
 is treading the hen, Where heifers browse—Where geese nip their food  
 with short jerks, Where sun-down shadows lengthen over the limitless  
 and lonesome prairie,   [ begin page 70 ]ppp.01500.078.jpg Where herds of buffalo make a crawling spread of  
 the square miles far and near, Where the humming-bird shimmers—Where the  
 neck of the long-lived swan is curving and  
 winding, Where the laughing-gull scoots by the shore, where  
 she laughs her near-human laugh, Where bee-hives range on a gray bench in the garden, 
 half hid by the high weeds, Where band-necked partridges roost in a ring on the  
 ground with their heads out, Where burial coaches enter the arched gates of a  
 cemetery, Where winter wolves bark amid wastes of snow and  
 icicled trees, Where the yellow-crowned heron comes to the edge of  
 the marsh at night and feeds upon small crabs, Where the splash of swimmers and divers cools the  
 warm noon, Where the katy-did works her chromatic reed on the  
 walnut-tree over the well, Through patches of citrons and cucumbers with  
 silver-wired leaves, Through the salt-lick or orange glade, or under con- 
 ical firs, Through the gymnasium—through the curtained  
 saloon—through the office or public hall, Pleased with the native, and pleased with the foreign  
 —pleased with the new and old, Pleased with women, the homely as well as the  
 handsome, Pleased with the quakeress as she puts off her bonnet  
 and talks melodiously,   [ begin page 71 ]ppp.01500.079.jpg Pleased with the tunes of the choir of the white- 
 washed church, Pleased with the earnest words of the sweating  
 Methodist preacher, or any preacher—Impressed  
 seriously at the camp-meeting, Looking in at the shop-windows of Broadway the  
 whole forenoon—flatting the flesh of my nose  
 on the thick plate-glass, Wandering the same afternoon with my face turned  
 up to the clouds, My right and left arms round the sides of two  
 friends, and I in the middle; Coming home with the silent and dark-cheeked  
 bush-boy—riding behind him at the drape of  
 the day, Far from the settlements, studying the print of ani- 
 mals' feet, or the moccason print, By the cot in the hospital, reaching lemonade to a  
 feverish patient, By the coffined corpse when all is still, examining  
 with a candle, Voyaging to every port, to dicker and adventure, Hurrying with the modern crowd, as eager and fickle  
 as any, Hot toward one I hate, ready in my madness to knife  
 him, Solitary at midnight in my back yard, my thoughts  
 gone from me a long while, Walking the old hills of Judea, with the beautiful  
 gentle God by my side, Speeding through space—speeding through heaven  
 and the stars,   [ begin page 72 ]ppp.01500.080.jpg Speeding amid the seven satellites, and the broad  
 ring, and the diameter of eighty thousand miles, Speeding with tailed meteors—throwing fire-balls  
 like the rest, Carrying the crescent child that carries its own full  
 mother in its belly, Storming, enjoying, planning, loving, cautioning, Backing and filling, appearing and disappearing, I tread day and night such roads. ²⁰²I visit the orchards of spheres, and look at the product, And look at quintillions ripened, and look at quin- 
 tillions green. ²⁰³I fly the flight of the fluid and swallowing soul, My course runs below the soundings of plummets. ²⁰⁴I help myself to material and immaterial, No guard can shut me off, nor law prevent me. ²⁰⁵I anchor my ship for a little while only, My messengers continually cruise away, or bring their  
 returns to me. ²⁰⁶I go hunting polar furs and the seal—Leaping  
 chasms with a pike-pointed staff—Clinging to  
 topples of brittle and blue. ²⁰⁷I ascend to the foretruck, I take my place late at night in the crow's-nest, We sail the arctic sea—it is plenty light enough, Through the clear atmosphere I stretch around on  
 the wonderful beauty,   [ begin page 73 ]ppp.01500.081.jpg The enormous masses of ice pass me, and I pass them  
 —the scenery is plain in all directions, The white-topped mountains show in the distance— 
 I fling out my fancies toward them, We are approaching some great battle-field in which  
 we are soon to be engaged, We pass the colossal out-posts of the encampment— 
 we pass with still feet and caution, Or we are entering by the suburbs some vast and  
 ruined city, The blocks and fallen architecture more than all the  
 living cities of the globe. ²⁰⁸I am a free companion—I bivouac by invading  
 watchfires. ²⁰⁹I turn the bridegroom out of bed, and stay with the  
 bride myself, I tighten her all night to my thighs and lips. ²¹⁰My voice is the wife's voice, the screech by the rail  
 of the stairs, They fetch my man's body up, dripping and drowned. ²¹¹I understand the large hearts of heroes, The courage of present times and all times, How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless  
 wreck of the steam-ship, and Death chasing it up  
 and down the storm, How he knuckled tight, and gave not back one inch, 
 and was faithful of days and faithful of nights, And chalked in large letters, on a board, Be of good  
  cheer, We will not desert you, 7   [ begin page 74 ]ppp.01500.082.jpg How he followed with them, and tacked with them— 
 and would not give it up, How he saved the drifting company at last, How the lank loose-gowned women looked when  
 boated from the side of their prepared graves, How the silent old-faced infants, and the lifted sick, 
 and the sharp-lipped unshaved men, All this I swallow—it tastes good—I like it well— 
 it becomes mine, I am the man—I suffered—I was there. ²¹²The disdain and calmness of martyrs, The mother, condemned for a witch, burnt with dry  
 wood, her children gazing on, The hounded slave that flags in the race, leans by the  
 the fence, blowing, covered with sweat, The twinges that sting like needles his legs and neck  
 —the murderous buck-shot and the bullets, All these I feel or am. ²¹³I am the hounded slave, I wince at the bite of the  
 dogs, Hell and despair are upon me, crack and again crack  
 the marksmen, I clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs, thinned  
 with the ooze of my skin, I fall on the weeds and stones, The riders spur their unwilling horses, haul close, Taunt my dizzy ears, and beat me violently over the  
 head with whip-stocks. ²¹⁴Agonies are one of my changes of garments, I do not ask the wounded person how he feels—I  
 myself become the wounded person,   [ begin page 75 ]ppp.01500.083.jpg My hurt turns livid upon me as I lean on a cane and  
 observe. ²¹⁵I am the mashed fireman with breastbone broken, Tumbling walls buried me in their debris, Heat and smoke I inspired—I heard the yelling  
 shouts of my comrades, I heard the distant click of their picks and shovels, They have cleared the beams away—they tenderly  
 lift me forth. ²¹⁶I lie in the night air in my red shirt—the pervading  
 hush is for my sake, Painless after all I lie, exhausted but not so unhappy, White and beautiful are the faces around me—the  
 heads are bared of their fire-caps, The kneeling crowd fades with the light of the  
 torches. ²¹⁷Distant and dead resuscitate, They show as the dial or move as the hands of me— 
 I am the clock myself. ²¹⁸I am an old artillerist—I tell of my fort's bombard- 
 ment, I am there again. ²¹⁹Again the reveille of drummers, Again the attacking cannon, mortars, howitzers, Again the attacked send cannon responsive. ²²⁰I take part—I see and hear the whole, The cries, curses, roar—the plaudits for well-aimed  
 shots,   [ begin page 76 ]ppp.01500.084.jpg The ambulanza slowly passing, trailing its red drip, Workmen searching after damages, making indis- 
 pensable repairs, The fall of grenades through the rent roof—the  
 fan-shaped explosion, The whizz of limbs, heads, stone, wood, iron, high in  
 the air. ²²¹Again gurgles the mouth of my dying general—he  
 furiously waves with his hand, He gasps through the clot, Mind not me—mind— 
  the entrenchments. ²²²I tell not the fall of Alamo, Not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo, The hundred and fifty are dumb yet at Alamo. ²²³Hear now the tale of the murder in cold blood of four  
 hundred and twelve young men. ²²⁴Retreating, they had formed in a hollow square, with  
 their baggage for breastworks, Nine hundred lives out of the surrounding enemy's, 
 nine times their number, was the price they took  
 in advance, Their colonel was wounded and their ammunition  
 gone, They treated for an honorable capitulation, received  
 writing and seal, gave up their arms, and  
 marched back prisoners of war. ²²⁵They were the glory of the race of rangers, Matchless with horse, rifle, song, supper, courtship,   [ begin page 77 ]ppp.01500.085.jpg Large, turbulent, generous, brave, handsome, proud, 
 and affectionate, Bearded, sunburnt, dressed in the free costume of  
 hunters, Not a single one over thirty years of age. ²²⁶The second First Day morning they were brought out  
 in squads and massacred—it was beautiful early  
 summer, The work commenced about five o'clock, and was over  
 by eight. ²²⁷None obeyed the command to kneel, Some made a mad and helpless rush—some stood  
 stark and straight, A few fell at once, shot in the temple or heart—the  
 living and dead lay together, The maimed and mangled dug in the dirt—the new- 
 comers saw them there, Some, half-killed, attempted to crawl away, These were despatched with bayonets, or battered with  
 the blunts of muskets, A youth not seventeen years old seized his assassin till  
 two more came to release him, The three were all torn, and covered with the boy's  
 blood. ²²⁸At eleven o'clock began the burning of the bodies: That is the tale of the murder of the four hundred  
 and twelve young men. ²²⁹Did you read in the sea-books of the old-fashioned  
 frigate-fight? 7*   [ begin page 78 ]ppp.01500.086.jpg Did you learn who won by the light of the moon and  
 stars? ²³⁰Our foe was no skulk in his ship, I tell you, His was the English pluck—and there is no tougher  
 or truer, and never was, and never will be; Along the lowered eve he came, horribly raking us. ²³¹We closed with him—the yards entangled—the  
 cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with his own hands. ²³²We had received some eighteen-pound shots under  
 the water, On our lower-gun-deck two large pieces had burst at  
 the first fire, killing all around, and blowing up  
 overhead. ²³³Ten o'clock at night, and the full moon shining, and  
 the leaks on the gain, and five feet of water  
 reported, The master-at-arms loosing the prisoners confined in  
 the after-hold, to give them a chance for them- 
 selves. ²³⁴The transit to and from the magazine was now  
 stopped by the sentinels, They saw so many strange faces, they did not know  
 whom to trust. ²³⁵Our frigate was afire, The other asked if we demanded quarter? If our colors were struck, and the fighting done?   [ begin page 79 ]ppp.01500.087.jpg ²³⁶I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little  
 captain, We have not struck, he composedly cried, We have  
  just begun our part of the fighting. ²³⁷Only three guns were in use, One was directed by the captain himself against the  
 enemy's main-mast, Two, well served with grape and canister, silenced his  
 musketry and cleared his decks. ²³⁸The tops alone seconded the fire of this little battery, 
 especially the main-top, They all held out bravely during the whole of the  
 action. ²³⁹Not a moment's cease, The leaks gained fast on the pumps—the fire eat  
 toward the powder-magazine, One of the pumps was shot away—it was generally  
 thought we were sinking. ²⁴⁰Serene stood the little captain, He was not hurried—his voice was neither high  
 nor low, His eyes gave more light to us than our battle- 
 lanterns. ²⁴¹Toward twelve at night, there in the beams of the  
 moon, they surrendered to us. ²⁴²Stretched and still lay the midnight, Two great hulls motionless on the breast of the  
 darkness,   [ begin page 80 ]ppp.01500.088.jpg Our vessel riddled and slowly sinking—preparations  
 to pass to the one we had conquered, The captain on the quarter-deck coldly giving his  
 orders through a countenance white as a sheet, Near by, the corpse of the child that served in the  
 cabin, The dead face of an old salt with long white hair and  
 carefully curled whiskers, The flames, spite of all that could be done, flickering  
 aloft and below, The husky voices of the two or three officers yet fit  
 for duty, Formless stacks of bodies, and bodies by themselves  
 —dabs of flesh upon the masts and spars, Cut of cordage, dangle of rigging, slight shock of the  
 soothe of waves, Black and impassive guns, litter of powder-parcels, 
 strong scent, Delicate sniffs of sea-breeze, smells of sedgy grass and  
 fields by the shore, death-messages given in  
 charge to survivors, The hiss of the surgeon's knife, the gnawing teeth of  
 his saw, Wheeze, cluck, swash of falling blood, short wild  
 scream, and long dull tapering groan, These so—these irretrievable. ²⁴³O Christ! This is mastering me! Through the conquered doors they crowd. I am  
 possessed. ²⁴⁴What the rebel said, gayly adjusting his throat to the  
 rope-noose,   [ begin page 81 ]ppp.01500.089.jpg What the savage at the stump, his eye-sockets empty, 
 his mouth spirting whoops and defiance, What stills the traveller come to the vault at Mount  
 Vernon, What sobers the Brooklyn boy as he looks down the  
 shores of the Wallabout and remembers the  
 Prison Ships, What burnt the gums of the red-coat at Saratoga  
 when he surrendered his brigades, These become mine and me every one—and they are  
 but little, I become as much more as I like. ²⁴⁵I become any presence or truth of humanity here, See myself in prison shaped like another man, And feel the dull unintermitted pain. ²⁴⁶For me the keepers of convicts shoulder their  
 carbines and keep watch, It is I let out in the morning and barred at night. ²⁴⁷Not a mutineer walks hand-cuffed to the jail, but I  
 am hand-cuffed to him and walk by his side, I am less the jolly one there, and more the silent one, 
 with sweat on my twitching lips. ²⁴⁸Not a youngster is taken for larceny, but I go up too, 
 and am tried and sentenced. ²⁴⁹Not a cholera patient lies at the last gasp, but I also  
 lie at the last gasp, My face is ash-colored—my sinews gnarl—away  
 from me people retreat.   [ begin page 82 ]ppp.01500.090.jpg ²⁵⁰Askers embody themselves in me, and I am embodied  
 in them, I project my hat, sit shame-faced, and beg. ²⁵¹Enough—I bring such to a close, Rise extatic through all, sweep with the true gravita- 
 tion, The whirling and whirling elemental within me. ²⁵²Somehow I have been stunned. Stand back! Give me a little time beyond my cuffed head, slum- 
 bers, dreams, gaping, I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake. ²⁵³That I could forget the mockers and insults! That I could forget the trickling tears, and the blows  
 of the bludgeons and hammers! That I could look with a separate look on my own  
 crucifixion and bloody crowning. ²⁵⁴I remember now, I resume the overstaid fraction, The grave of rock multiplies what has been confided  
 to it, or to any graves, Corpses rise, gashes heal, fastenings roll from me. ²⁵⁵I troop forth replenished with supreme power, one of  
 an average unending procession, We walk the roads of the six North Eastern States, 
 and of Virginia, Wisconsin, Manhattan Island, 
 Philadelphia, New Orleans, Texas, Charleston, 
 Havana, Mexico, Inland and by the sea-coast and boundary lines, and  
 we pass all boundary lines.   [ begin page 83 ]ppp.01500.091.jpg ²⁵⁶Our swift ordinances are on their way over the whole  
 earth, The blossoms we wear in our hats are the growth of  
 two thousand years. ²⁵⁷Élèves, I salute you! I see the approach of your numberless gangs—I see  
 you understand yourselves and me, And know that they who have eyes and can walk are  
 divine, and the blind and lame are equally divine, And that my steps drag behind yours, yet go before  
 them, And are aware how I am with you no more than I am  
 with everybody. ²⁵⁸The friendly and flowing savage, Who is he? Is he waiting for civilization, or past it and master- 
 ing it? ²⁵⁹Is he some south-westerner, raised out-doors? Is he  
 Kanadian? Is he from the Mississippi country? Iowa, Oregon, 
 California? the mountains? prairie-life, bush- 
 life? or from the sea? ²⁶⁰Wherever he goes men and women accept and desire  
 him, They desire he should like them, touch them, speak  
 to them, stay with them. ²⁶¹Behavior lawless as snow-flakes, words simple as  
 grass, uncombed head, laughter, and näveté, Slow-stepping feet, common features, common modes  
 and emanations,   [ begin page 84 ]ppp.01500.092.jpg They descend in new forms from the tips of his  
 fingers, They are wafted with the odor of his body or breath  
 —they fly out of the glance of his eyes. ²⁶²Flaunt of the sunshine, I need not your bask,—lie  
 over! You light surfaces only—I force surfaces and depths  
 also. Earth! you seem to look for something at my hands, Say, old Top-knot! what do you want? ²⁶³Man or woman! I might tell how I like you, but  
 cannot, And might tell what it is in me, and what it is in  
 you, but cannot, And might tell that pining I have—that pulse of my  
 nights and days. ²⁶⁴Behold! I do not give lectures or a little charity, What I give, I give out of myself. ²⁶⁵You there, impotent, loose in the knees, Open your scarfed chops till I blow grit within you, Spread your palms, and lift the flaps of your pockets; I am not to be denied—I compel—I have stores  
 plenty and to spare, And anything I have I bestow. ²⁶⁶I do not ask who you are—that is not important to  
 me, You can do nothing, and be nothing, but what I will  
 infold you.   [ begin page 85 ]ppp.01500.093.jpg ²⁶⁷To a drudge of the cotton-fields or cleaner of privies  
 I lean, On his right cheek I put the family kiss, And in my soul I swear, I never will deny him. ²⁶⁸On women fit for conception I start bigger and nim- 
 bler babes, This day I am jetting the stuff of far more arrogant  
 republics. ²⁶⁹To any one dying—thither I speed, and twist the  
 knob of the door, Turn the bed-clothes toward the foot of the bed, Let the physician and the priest go home. ²⁷⁰I seize the descending man, and raise him with resist- 
 less will. ²⁷¹O despairer, here is my neck, By God! you shall not go down! Hang your whole  
 weight upon me. ²⁷²I dilate you with tremendous breath—I buoy you up, Every room of the house do I fill with an armed force, Lovers of me, bafflers of graves. ²⁷³Sleep! I and they keep guard all night, Not doubt—not decease shall dare to lay finger upon  
 you, I have embraced you, and henceforth possess you to  
 myself, And when you rise in the morning you will find what  
 I tell you is so. 8   [ begin page 86 ]ppp.01500.094.jpg ²⁷⁴I am he bringing help for the sick as they pant on  
 their backs, And for strong upright men I bring yet more needed  
 help. ²⁷⁵I heard what was said of the universe, Heard it and heard it of several thousand years; It is middling well as far as it goes,—But is that all? ²⁷⁶Magnifying and applying come I, Outbidding at the start the old cautious hucksters, The most they offer for mankind and eternity less  
 than a spirt of my own seminal wet, Taking myself the exact dimensions of Jehovah, Lithographing Kronos, Zeus his son, and Hercules  
 his grandson, Buying drafts of Osiris, Isis, Belus, Brahma, Buddha, In my portfolio placing Manito loose, Allah on a leaf, 
 the crucifix engraved, With Odin, and the hideous-faced Mexitli, and every  
 idol and image, Taking them all for what they are worth, and not a  
 cent more, Admitting they were alive and did the work of their  
 day, Admitting they bore mites, as for unfledged birds, 
 who have now to rise and fly and sing for them- 
 selves, Accepting the rough deific sketches to fill out better  
 in myself—bestowing them freely on each man  
 and woman I see, Discovering as much, or more, in a framer framing a  
 house,   [ begin page 87 ]ppp.01500.095.jpg Putting higher claims for him there with his rolled- 
 up sleeves, driving the mallet and chisel, Not objecting to special revelations—considering a  
 curl of smoke or a hair on the back of my hand  
 just as curious as any revelation, Those ahold of fire engines and hook-and-ladder ropes  
 no less to me than the Gods of the antique wars, Minding their voices peal through the crash of  
 destruction, Their brawny limbs passing safe over charred laths— 
 their white foreheads whole and unhurt out of  
 the flames; By the mechanic's wife with her babe at her nipple  
 interceding for every person born, Three scythes at harvest whizzing in a row from  
 three lusty angels with shirts bagged out at  
 their waists, The snag-toothed hostler with red hair redeeming sins  
 past and to come, Selling all he possesses, travelling on foot to fee  
 lawyers for his brother, and sit by him while he  
 is tried for forgery; What was strewn in the amplest strewing the square  
 rod about me, and not filling the square rod  
 then, The bull and the bug never worshipped half enough, Dung and dirt more admirable than was dreamed, The supernatural of no account—myself waiting my  
 time to be one of the Supremes, The day getting ready for me when I shall do as  
 much good as the best, and be as prodigious, Guessing when I am it will not tickle me much to  
 receive puffs out of pulpit or print;   [ begin page 88 ]ppp.01500.096.jpg By my life-lumps! becoming already a creator, Putting myself here and now to the ambushed womb  
 of the shadows. ²⁷⁷A call in the midst of the crowd, My own voice, orotund, sweeping, final. ²⁷⁸Come my children, Come my boys and girls, my women, household, 
 and intimates, Now the performer launches his nerve—he has  
 passed his prelude on the reeds within. ²⁷⁹Easily written, loose-fingered chords! I feel the thrum  
 of their climax and close. ²⁸⁰My head slues round on my neck, Music rolls, but not from the organ, Folks are around me, but they are no household of  
 mine. ²⁸¹Ever the hard unsunk ground, Ever the eaters and drinkers—Ever the upward  
 and downward sun—Ever the air and the cease- 
 less tides, Ever myself and my neighbors, refreshing, wicked, 
 real, Ever the old inexplicable query—Ever that thorned  
 thumb—that breath of itches and thirsts, Ever the vexer's hoot! hoot! till we find where the  
 sly one hides, and bring him forth; Ever love—Ever the sobbing liquid of life, Ever the bandage under the chin—Ever the tressels  
 of death.   [ begin page 89 ]ppp.01500.097.jpg ²⁸²Here and there, with dimes on the eyes walking, To feed the greed of the belly, the brains liberally  
 spooning, Tickets buying, taking, selling, but in to the feast  
 never once going, Many sweating, ploughing, thrashing, and then the  
 chaff for payment receiving, A few idly owning, and they the wheat continually  
 claiming. ²⁸³This is the city, and I am one of the citizens, Whatever interests the rest interests me—politics, 
 markets, newspapers, schools, Benevolent societies, improvements, banks, tariffs, 
 steamships, factories, stocks, stores, real estate, 
 and personal estate. ²⁸⁴They who piddle and patter here in collars and tailed  
 coats—I am aware who they are—they are not  
 worms or fleas. ²⁸⁵I acknowledge the duplicates of myself—the weakest  
 and shallowest is deathless with me, What I do and say, the same waits for them, Every thought that flounders in me, the same floun- 
 ders in them. ²⁸⁶I know perfectly well my own egotism, I know my omnivorous words, and cannot say any  
 less, And would fetch you, whoever you are, flush with  
 myself. 8*   [ begin page 90 ]ppp.01500.098.jpg ²⁸⁷My words are words of a questioning, and to indicate  
 reality and motive power: This printed and bound book—but the printer, and  
 the printing-office boy? The well-taken photographs—but your wife or friend  
 close and solid in your arms? The fleet of ships of the line, and all the modern  
 improvements—but the craft and pluck of the  
 admiral? The dishes and fare and furniture—but the host and  
 hostess, and the look out of their eyes? The sky up there—yet here, or next door, or across  
 the way? The saints and sages in history—but you yourself? Sermons, creeds, theology—but the human brain, 
 and what is reason? and what is love? and what  
 is life? ²⁸⁸I do not despise you, priests, My faith is the greatest of faiths, and the least of  
 faiths, Enclosing all worship ancient and modern, and all  
 between ancient and modern, Believing I shall come again upon the earth after  
 five thousand years, Waiting responses from oracles, honoring the Gods, 
 saluting the sun, Making a fetish of the first rock or stump, powwowing  
 with sticks in the circle of obis, Helping the lama or brahmin as he trims the lamps  
 of the idols, Dancing yet through the streets in a phallic pro- 
 cession—rapt and austere in the woods, a  
 gymnosophist,   [ begin page 91 ]ppp.01500.099.jpg Drinking mead from the skull-cup—to Shastas and  
 Vedas admirant—minding the Koran, Walking the teokallis, spotted with gore from the  
 stone and knife, beating the serpent-skin drum, Accepting the Gospels—accepting him that was  
 crucified, knowing assuredly that he is divine, To the mass kneeling, or the puritan's prayer rising, 
 or sitting patiently in a pew, Ranting and frothing in my insane crisis, or waiting  
 dead-like till my spirit arouses me, Looking forth on pavement and land, or outside of  
 pavement and land, Belonging to the winders of the circuit of circuits. ²⁸⁹One of that centripetal and centrifugal gang, I turn  
 and talk like a man leaving charges before a  
 journey. ²⁹⁰Down-hearted doubters, dull and excluded, Frivolous, sullen, moping, angry, affected, disheart- 
 ened, atheistical, I know every one of you—I know the unspoken  
 interrogatories, By experience I know them. ²⁹¹How the flukes splash! How they contort, rapid as lightning, with spasms, 
 and spouts of blood! ²⁹²Be at peace, bloody flukes of doubters and sullen  
 mopers, I take my place among you as much as among any, The past is the push of you, me, all, precisely the  
 same,   [ begin page 92 ]ppp.01500.100.jpg Day and night are for you, me, all, And what is yet untried and afterward is for you, 
 me, all, precisely the same. ²⁹³I do not know what is untried and afterward, But I know it is sure, alive, sufficient. ²⁹⁴Each who passes is considered—Each who stops is  
 considered—Not a single one can it fail. ²⁹⁵It cannot fail the young man who died and was  
 buried, Nor the young woman who died and was put by his  
 side, Nor the little child that peeped in at the door, and  
 then drew back, and was never seen again, Nor the old man who has lived without purpose, and  
 feels it with bitterness worse than gall, Nor him in the poor-house, tubercled by rum and  
 the bad disorder, Nor the numberless slaughtered and wrecked—nor  
 the brutish koboo called the ordure of humanity, Nor the sacs merely floating with open mouths for  
 food to slip in, Nor anything in the earth, or down in the oldest  
 graves of the earth, Nor anything in the myriads of spheres—nor one of  
 the myriads of myriads that inhabit them, Nor the present—nor the least wisp that is known. ²⁹⁶It is time to explain myself—Let us stand up. ²⁹⁷What is known I strip away, I launch all men and women forward with me into  
  THE UNKNOWN.   [ begin page 93 ]ppp.01500.101.jpg ²⁹⁸The clock indicates the moment—but what does  
 eternity indicate? ²⁹⁹We have thus far exhausted trillions of winters and  
 summers, There are trillions ahead, and trillions ahead of them. ³⁰⁰Births have brought us richness and variety, And other births will bring us richness and variety. ³⁰¹I do not call one greater and one smaller, That which fills its period and place is equal to any. ³⁰²Were mankind murderous or jealous upon you, my  
 brother, my sister? I am sorry for you—they are not murderous or jeal- 
 ous upon me, All has been gentle with me—I keep no account  
 with lamentation, (What have I to do with lamentation?) ³⁰³I am an acme of things accomplished, and I an  
 encloser of things to be. ³⁰⁴My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs, On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches  
 between the steps, All below duly travelled, and still I mount and mount. ³⁰⁵Rise after rise bow the phantoms behind me, Afar down I see the huge first Nothing—I know I  
 was even there, I waited unseen and always, and slept through the  
 lethargic mist,   [ begin page 94 ]ppp.01500.102.jpg And took my time, and took no hurt from the fetid  
 carbon. ³⁰⁶Long I was hugged close—long and long. ³⁰⁷Immense have been the preparations for me, Faithful and friendly the arms that have helped me. ³⁰⁸Cycles ferried my cradle, rowing and rowing like  
 cheerful boatmen, For room to me stars kept aside in their own rings, They sent influences to look after what was to  
 hold me. ³⁰⁹Before I was born out of my mother, generations  
 guided me, My embryo has never been torpid—nothing could  
 overlay it. ³¹⁰For it the nebula cohered to an orb, The long slow strata piled to rest it on, Vast vegetables gave it sustenance, Monstrous sauroids transported it in their mouths, 
 and deposited it with care. ³¹¹All forces have been steadily employed to complete  
 and delight me, Now I stand on this spot with my Soul. ³¹²O span of youth! Ever-pushed elasticity! O manhood, balanced, florid, and full. ³¹³My lovers suffocate me! Crowding my lips, thick in the pores of my skin, Jostling me through streets and public halls— 
 coming naked to me at night,   [ begin page 95 ]ppp.01500.103.jpg Crying by day Ahoy! from the rocks of the river  
 —swinging and chirping over my head, Calling my name from flower-beds, vines, tangled  
 under-brush, Or while I swim in the bath, or drink from the pump  
 at the corner—or the curtain is down at the  
 opera, or I glimpse at a woman's face in the  
 railroad car, Lighting on every moment of my life, Bussing my body with soft balsamic busses, Noiselessly passing handfuls out of their hearts, and  
 giving them to be mine. ³¹⁴Old age superbly rising! O welcome, ineffable grace  
 of dying days! ³¹⁵Every condition promulges not only itself—it pro- 
 mulges what grows after and out of itself, And the dark hush promulges as much as any. ³¹⁶I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled  
 systems, And all I see, multiplied as high as I can cipher, edge  
 but the rim of the farther systems. ³¹⁷Wider and wider they spread, expanding, always  
 expanding, Outward, outward, and forever outward. ³¹⁸My sun has his sun, and round him obediently  
 wheels, He joins with his partners a group of superior circuit, And greater sets follow, making specks of the greatest  
 inside them.   [ begin page 96 ]ppp.01500.104.jpg ³¹⁹There is no stoppage, and never can be stoppage, If I, you, the worlds, all beneath or upon their sur- 
 faces, and all the palpable life, were this moment  
 reduced back to a pallid float, it would not avail  
 in the long run, We should surely bring up again where we now  
 stand, And as surely go as much farther—and then farther  
 and farther. ³²⁰A few quadrillions of eras, a few octillions of cubic  
 leagues, do not hazard the span, or make it  
 impatient, They are but parts—anything is but a part. ³²¹See ever so far, there is limitless space outside  
 of that, Count ever so much, there is limitless time around  
 that. ³²²My rendezvous is appointed, The Lord will be there, and wait till I come on per- 
 fect terms. ³²³I know I have the best of time and space, and was  
 never measured, and never will be measured. ³²⁴I tramp a perpetual journey, My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff  
 cut from the woods, No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair, I have no chair, no church, no philosophy, I lead no man to a dinner-table, library, or exchange,   [ begin page 97 ]ppp.01500.105.jpg But each man and each woman of you I lead upon  
 a knoll, My left hand hooking you round the waist, My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents, 
 and a plain public road. ³²⁵Not I—not any one else, can travel that road for  
 you, You must travel it for yourself. ³²⁶It is not far—it is within reach, Perhaps you have been on it since you were born, 
 and did not know, Perhaps it is every where on water and on land. ³²⁷Shoulder your duds, and I will mine, and let us  
 hasten forth, Wonderful cities and free nations we shall fetch as  
 we go. ³²⁸If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the chuff  
 of your hand on my hip, And in due time you shall repay the same service  
 to me, For after we start we never lie by again. ³²⁹This day before dawn I ascended a hill, and looked  
 at the crowded heaven, And I said to my Spirit, When we become the  
  enfolders of those orbs, and the pleasure and  
  knowledge of everything in them, shall we be  
  filled and satisfied then? And my Spirit said No, we level that lift, to pass and  
  continue beyond. 9   [ begin page 98 ]ppp.01500.106.jpg ³³⁰You are also asking me questions, and I hear you, I answer that I cannot answer—you must find out  
 for yourself. ³³¹Sit a while, wayfarer, Here are biscuits to eat, and here is milk to drink, But as soon as you sleep, and renew yourself in  
 sweet clothes, I will certainly kiss you with my  
 good-bye kiss, and open the gate for your egress  
 hence. ³³²Long enough have you dreamed contemptible dreams, Now I wash the gum from your eyes, You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light, 
 and of every moment of your life. ³³³Long have you timidly waded, holding a plank by  
 the shore, Now I will you to be a bold swimmer, To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod  
 to me, shout, and laughingly dash with your hair. ³³⁴I am the teacher of athletes, He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own, 
 proves the width of my own, He most honors my style who learns under it to  
 destroy the teacher. ³³⁵The boy I love, the same becomes a man, not through  
 derived power, but in his own right, Wicked, rather than virtuous out of conformity or  
 fear, Fond of his sweetheart, relishing well his steak,   [ begin page 99 ]ppp.01500.107.jpg Unrequited love, or a slight, cutting him worse than  
 a wound cuts, First rate to ride, to fight, to hit the bull's-eye, to  
 sail a skiff, to sing a song, or play on the banjo, Preferring scars, and faces pitted with small-pox, over  
 all latherers, and those that keep out of the sun. ³³⁶I teach straying from me—yet who can stray from  
 me? I follow you, whoever you are, from the present  
 hour, My words itch at your ears till you understand  
 them. ³³⁷I do not say these things for a dollar, or to fill up  
 the time while I wait for a boat, It is you talking just as much as myself—I act as  
 the tongue of you, Tied in your mouth, in mine it begins to be loosened. ³³⁸I swear I will never again mention love or death  
 inside a house, And I swear I will never translate myself at all, only  
 to him or her who privately stays with me in  
 the open air. ³³⁹If you would understand me, go to the heights or  
 water-shore, The nearest gnat is an explanation, and a drop or  
 motion of waves a key, The maul, the oar, the hand-saw, second my words. ³⁴⁰No shuttered room or school can commune with me, But roughs and little children better than they.   [ begin page 100 ]ppp.01500.108.jpg ³⁴¹The young mechanic is closest to me—he knows me  
 pretty well, The woodman, that takes his axe and jug with him, 
 shall take me with him all day, The farm-boy, ploughing in the field, feels good at the  
 sound of my voice, In vessels that sail, my words sail—I go with fisher- 
 men and seamen, and love them. ³⁴²My face rubs to the hunter's face, when he lies down  
 alone in his blanket, The driver, thinking of me, does not mind the jolt  
 of his wagon, The young mother and old mother comprehend me, The girl and the wife rest the needle a moment, and  
 forget where they are, They and all would resume what I have told them. ³⁴³I have said that the Soul is not more than the  
 body, And I have said that the body is not more than  
 the Soul, And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's  
 self is. And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy, 
 walks to his own funeral, dressed in his shroud, And I or you, pocketless of a dime, may purchase  
 the pick of the earth, And to glance with an eye, or show a bean in its  
 pod, confounds the learning of all times, And there is no trade or employment but the young  
 man following it may become a hero,   [ begin page 101 ]ppp.01500.109.jpg And there is no object so soft but it makes a hub  
 for the wheeled universe, And any man or woman shall stand cool and  
 supercilious before a million universes. ³⁴⁴And I call to mankind, Be not curious about God, For I, who am curious about each, am not curious  
 about God, No array of terms can say how much I am at peace  
 about God, and about death. ³⁴⁵I hear and behold God in every object, yet under- 
 stand God not in the least, Nor do I understand who there can be more won- 
 derful than myself. ³⁴⁶Why should I wish to see God better than this day? I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four, 
 and each moment then, In the faces of men and women I see God, and in  
 my own face in the glass, I find letters from God dropped in the street—and  
 every one is signed by God's name, And I leave them where they are, for I know that  
 others will punctually come forever and ever. ³⁴⁷And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, 
 it is idle to try to alarm me. ³⁴⁸To his work without flinching the accoucheur comes, I see the elder-hand, pressing, receiving, supporting, I recline by the sills of the exquisite flexible doors, 
 and mark the outlet, and mark the relief and  
 escape. 9*   [ begin page 102 ]ppp.01500.110.jpg ³⁴⁹And as to you corpse, I think you are good manure, 
 but that does not offend me, I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing, I reach to the leafy lips—I reach to the polished  
 breasts of melons. ³⁵⁰And as to you life, I reckon you are the leavings of  
 many deaths, No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times  
 before. ³⁵¹I hear you whispering there, O stars of heaven, O suns! O grass of graves! O perpetual transfers and  
 promotions! If you do not say anything, how can I say anything? ³⁵²Of the turbid pool that lies in the autumn forest, Of the moon that descends the steeps of the soughing  
 twilight, Toss, sparkles of day and dusk! toss on the black  
 stems that decay in the muck! Toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry limbs. ³⁵³I ascend from the moon, I ascend from the night, I perceive of the ghastly glimmer the sunbeams re- 
 flected, And debouch to the steady and central from the  
 offspring great or small. ³⁵⁴There is that in me—I do not know what it is—but  
 I know it is in me. ³⁵⁵Wrenched and sweaty—calm and cool then my body  
 becomes, I sleep—I sleep long.   [ begin page 103 ]ppp.01500.111.jpg ³⁵⁶I do not know it—it is without name—it is a word  
 unsaid, It is not in any dictionary, utterance, symbol. ³⁵⁷Something it swings on more than the earth I swing on, To it the creation is the friend whose embracing  
 awakes me. ³⁵⁸Perhaps I might tell more. Outlines! I plead for my  
 brothers and sisters. ³⁵⁹Do you see, O my brothers and sisters? It is not chaos or death—it is form, union, plan—it  
 is eternal life—it is HAPPINESS. ³⁶⁰The past and present wilt—I have filled them, emp- 
 tied them, And proceed to fill my next fold of the future. ³⁶¹Listener up there! Here you! What have you to  
 confide to me? Look in my face, while I snuff the sidle of evening, Talk honestly—no one else hears you, and I stay  
 only a minute longer. ³⁶²Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself, I am large—I contain multitudes. ³⁶³I concentrate toward them that are nigh—I wait on  
 the door-slab. ³⁶⁴Who has done his day's work? Who will soonest be  
 through with his supper? Who wishes to walk with me?   [ begin page 104 ]ppp.01500.112.jpg ³⁶⁵Will you speak before I am gone? Will you prove  
 already too late? ³⁶⁶The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me—he  
 complains of my gab and my loitering. ³⁶⁷I too am not a bit tamed—I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world. ³⁶⁸The last scud of day holds back for me, It flings my likeness, after the rest, and true as any, 
 on the shadowed wilds, It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk. ³⁶⁹I depart as air—I shake my white locks at the  
 run-away sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags. ³⁷⁰I bequeathe myself to the dirt, to grow from the  
 grass I love, If you want me again, look for me under your boot- 
 soles. ³⁷¹You will hardly know who I am, or what I mean, But I shall be good health to you nevertheless, And filter and fibre your blood. ³⁷²Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged, Missing me one place, search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you.   [ begin page 105 ]ppp.01500.113.jpg

CHANTS DEMOCRATIC AND NATIVE AMERICAN.

Apostroph.

O mater! O fils! O brood continental! O flowers of the prairies! O space boundless! O hum of mighty products! O you teeming cities! O so invincible, turbulent, 
 proud! O race of the future! O women! O fathers! O you men of passion and the storm! O native power only! O beauty! O yourself! O God! O divine average! O you bearded roughs! O bards! O all those slum- 
 berers! O arouse! the dawn-bird's throat sounds shrill! Do  
 you not hear the cock crowing? O, as I walk'd the beach, I heard the mournful notes  
 foreboding a tempest—the low, oft-repeated  
 shriek of the diver, the long-lived loon;   [ begin page 106 ]ppp.01500.114.jpg O I heard, and yet hear, angry thunder;—O you  
 sailors! O ships! make quick preparation! O from his masterful sweep, the warning cry of the  
 eagle! (Give way there, all! It is useless! Give up your  
 spoils;) O sarcasms! Propositions! (O if the whole world  
 should prove indeed a sham, a sell!) O I believe there is nothing real but America and  
 freedom! O to sternly reject all except Democracy! O imperator! O who dare confront you and me? O to promulgate our own! O to build for that which  
 builds for mankind! O feuillage! O North! O the slope drained by the  
 Mexican sea! O all, all inseparable—ages, ages, ages! O a curse on him that would dissever this Union for  
 any reason whatever! O climates, labors! O good and evil! O death! O you strong with iron and wood! O Personality! O the village or place which has the greatest man or  
 woman! even if it be only a few ragged huts; O the city where women walk in public processions in  
 the streets, the same as the men; O a wan and terrible emblem, by me adopted! O shapes arising! shapes of the future centuries! O muscle and pluck forever for me! O workmen and workwomen forever for me! O farmers and sailors! O drivers of horses forever  
 for me! O I will make the new bardic list of trades and tools! O you coarse and wilful! I love you!   [ begin page 107 ]ppp.01500.115.jpg O South! O longings for my dear home! O soft and  
 sunny airs! O pensive! O I must return where the palm grows  
 and the mocking-bird sings, or else I die! O equality! O organic compacts! I am come to be  
 your born poet! O whirl, contest, sounding and resounding! I am  
 your poet, because I am part of you; O days by-gone! Enthusiasts! Antecedents! O vast preparations for These States! O years! O what is now being sent forward thousands of years  
 to come! O mediums! O to teach! to convey the invisible faith! To promulge real things! to journey through all The  
 States! O creation! O to-day! O laws! O unmitigated  
 adoration! O for mightier broods of orators, artists, and singers! O for native songs! carpenter's, boatman's, plough- 
 man's songs! shoemaker's songs! O haughtiest growth of time! O free and extatic! O what I, here, preparing, warble for! O you hastening light! O the sun of the world will  
 ascend, dazzling, and take his height—and you  
 too will ascend; O so amazing and so broad! up there resplendent, 
 darting and burning; O prophetic! O vision staggered with weight of light! 
 with pouring glories! O copious! O hitherto unequalled! O Libertad! O compact! O union impossible to  
 dissever! O my Soul! O lips becoming tremulous, powerless! O centuries, centuries yet ahead!   [ begin page 108 ]ppp.01500.116.jpg O voices of greater orators! I pause—I listen for  
 you! O you States! Cities! defiant of all outside authority! 
 I spring at once into your arms! you I most  
 love! O you grand Presidentiads! I wait for you! New history! New heroes! I project you! Visions of poets! only you really last! O sweep on! 
 sweep on! O Death! O you striding there! O I cannot yet! O heights! O infinitely too swift and dizzy yet! O purged lumine! you threaten me more than I can  
 stand! O present! I return while yet I may to you! O poets to come, I depend upon you!

1.

¹A NATION announcing itself, (many in one,) I myself make the only growth by which I can be  
 appreciated, I reject none, accept all, reproduce all in my own  
 forms. ²A breed whose testimony is behavior, What we are WE ARE—nativity is answer enough  
 to objections; We wield ourselves as a weapon is wielded,   [ begin page 109 ]ppp.01500.117.jpg We are powerful and tremendous in ourselves, We are executive in ourselves—We are sufficient  
 in the variety of ourselves, We are the most beautiful to ourselves, and in our- 
 selves, Nothing is sinful to us outside of ourselves, Whatever appears, whatever does not appear, we are  
 beautiful or sinful in ourselves only. ³Have you thought there could be but a single  
 Supreme? There can be any number of Supremes—One does  
 not countervail another, any more than one eye- 
 sight countervails another, or one life counter- 
 vails another. ⁴All is eligible to all, All is for individuals—All is for you, No condition is prohibited, not God's or any, If one is lost, you are inevitably lost. ⁵All comes by the body—only health puts you rapport  
 with the universe. ⁶Produce great persons, the rest follows. ⁷How dare a sick man, or an obedient man, write  
 poems for These States? Which is the theory or book that, for our purposes, is  
 not diseased? ⁸Piety and conformity to them that like! Peace, obesity, allegiance, to them that like! 10   [ begin page 110 ]ppp.01500.118.jpg I am he who tauntingly compels men, women,  
 nations, to leap from their seats and contend  
 for their lives. ⁹I am he who goes through the streets with a barbed  
 tongue, questioning every one I meet—ques- 
 tioning you up there now: Who are you, that wanted only to be told what you  
 knew before? Who are you, that wanted only a book to join you in  
 your nonsense? ¹⁰Are you, or would you be, better than all that has  
 ever been before? If you would be better than all that has ever been  
 before, come listen to me, and not otherwise. ¹¹Fear grace—Fear delicatesse, Fear the mellow sweet, the sucking of honey-juice, Beware the advancing mortal ripening of nature, Beware what precedes the decay of the ruggedness of  
 states and men. ¹²Ages, precedents, poems, have long been accumu- 
 lating undirected materials, America brings builders, and brings its own styles. ¹³Mighty bards have done their work, and passed to  
 other spheres, One work forever remains, the work of surpassing all  
 they have done. ¹⁴America, curious toward foreign characters, stands by  
 its own at all hazards,   [ begin page 111 ]ppp.01500.119.jpg Stands removed, spacious, composite, sound, Sees itself promulger of men and women, initiates  
 the true use of precedents, Does not repel them or the past, or what they have  
 produced under their forms, or amid other pol- 
 itics, or amid the idea of castes, or the old  
 religions, Takes the lesson with calmness, perceives the corpse  
 slowly borne from the eating and sleeping rooms  
 of the house, Perceives that it waits a little while in the door—  
 that it was fittest for its days, That its life has descended to the stalwart and well-  
 shaped heir who approaches, And that he shall be fittest for his days. ¹⁵Any period, one nation must lead, One land must be the promise and reliance of the  
 future. ¹⁶These States are the amplest poem, Here is not merely a nation, but a teeming nation of  
 nations, Here the doings of men correspond with the broad- 
 cast doings of the day and night, Here is what moves in magnificent masses, carelessly  
 faithful of particulars, Here are the roughs, beards, friendliness, combative- 
 ness, the Soul loves, Here the flowing trains—here the crowds, equality,  
 diversity, the Soul loves. ¹⁷Race of races, and bards to corroborate!   [ begin page 112 ]ppp.01500.120.jpg Of them, standing among them, one lifts to the light  
 his west-bred face, To him the hereditary countenance bequeathed, both  
 mother's and father's, His first parts substances, earth, water, animals, trees, Built of the common stock, having room for far and  
 near, Used to dispense with other lands, incarnating this  
 land, Attracting it body and Soul to himself, hanging on its  
 neck with incomparable love, Plunging his semitic muscle into its merits and  
 demerits, Making its geography, cities, beginnings, events,  
 glories, defections, diversities, vocal in him, Making its rivers, lakes, bays, embouchure in him, Mississippi with yearly freshets and changing chutes  
 —Missouri, Columbia, Ohio, Niagara, Hudson,  
 spending themselves lovingly in him, If the Atlantic coast stretch, or the Pacific coast  
 stretch, he stretching with them north or south, Spanning between them east and west, and touching  
 whatever is between them, Growths growing from him to offset the growth of  
 pine, cedar, hemlock, live-oak, locust, chest- 
 nut, cypress, hickory, lime-tree, cotton-wood,  
 tulip-tree, cactus, tamarind, orange, magnolia,  
 persimmon, Tangles as tangled in him as any cane-brake or  
 swamp, He likening sides and peaks of mountains, forests  
 coated with transparent ice, and icicles hanging  
 from the boughs,   [ begin page 113 ]ppp.01500.121.jpg Off him pasturage sweet and natural as savanna,  
 upland, prairie, Through him flights, songs, screams, answering those  
 of the wild-pigeon, coot, fish-hawk, qua-bird,  
 mocking-bird, condor, night-heron, eagle; His spirit surrounding his country's spirit, unclosed  
 to good and evil, Surrounding the essences of real things, old times  
 and present times, Surrounding just found shores, islands, tribes of red  
 aborigines, Weather-beaten vessels, landings, settlements, the  
 rapid stature and muscle, The haughty defiance of the Year 1—war, peace,  
 the formation of the Constitution, The separate States, the simple, elastic scheme, the  
 immigrants, The Union, always swarming with blatherers, and  
 always calm and impregnable, The unsurveyed interior, log-houses, clearings, wild  
 animals, hunters, trappers; Surrounding the multiform agriculture, mines, tem- 
 perature, the gestation of new States, Congress convening every Twelfth Month, the mem- 
 bers duly coming up from the uttermost parts; Surrounding the noble character of mechanics and  
 farmers, especially the young men, Responding their manners, speech, dress, friendships  
 —the gait they have of persons who never knew  
 how it felt to stand in the presence of superiors, The freshness and candor of their physiognomy, the  
 copiousness and decision of their phrenology, 10*   [ begin page 114 ]ppp.01500.122.jpg The picturesque looseness of their carriage, their  
 deathless attachment to freedom, their fierceness  
 when wronged, The fluency of their speech, their delight in music,  
 their curiosity, good temper, and open-handed- 
 ness—the whole composite make, The prevailing ardor and enterprise, the large am- 
 ativeness, The perfect equality of the female with the male, the  
 fluid movement of the population, The superior marine, free commerce, fisheries,  
 whaling, gold-digging, Wharf-hemmed cities, railroad and steamboat lines,  
 intersecting all points, Factories, mercantile life, labor-saving machinery, the  
 north-east, north-west, south-west, Manhattan firemen, the Yankee swap, southern plan- 
 tation life, Slavery, the tremulous spreading of hands to shelter  
 it—the stern opposition to it, which ceases only  
 when it ceases. ¹⁸For these and the like, their own voices! For these,  
 space ahead! Others take finish, but the Republic is ever con- 
 structive, and ever keeps vista; Others adorn the past—but you, O, days of the  
 present, I adorn you! O days of the future, I believe in you! O America, because you build for mankind, I build  
 for you! O well-beloved stone-cutters! I lead them who plan  
 with decision and science,   [ begin page 115 ]ppp.01500.123.jpg I lead the present with friendly hand toward the  
 future. ¹⁹Bravas to States whose semitic impulses send whole- 
 some children to the next age! But damn that which spends itself on flaunters and  
 dalliers, with no thought of the stain, pains,  
 dismay, feebleness, it is bequeathing. ²⁰By great bards only can series of peoples and States  
 be fused into the compact organism of one  
 nation. ²¹To hold men together by paper and seal, or by com- 
 pulsion, is no account, That only holds men together which is living prin- 
 ciples, as the hold of the limbs of the body, or  
 the fibres of plants. ²²Of all races and eras, These States, with veins full  
 of poetical stuff, most need poets, and are to have  
 the greatest, and use them the greatest, Their Presidents shall not be their common referee  
 so much as their poets shall. ²³Of mankind, the poet is the equable man, Not in him, but off from him, things are grotesque,  
 eccentric, fail of their full returns, Nothing out of its place is good, nothing in its place  
 is bad, He bestows on every object or quality its fit propor- 
 tions, neither more nor less, He is the arbiter of the diverse, he is the key,   [ begin page 116 ]ppp.01500.124.jpg He is the equalizer of his age and land, He supplies what wants supplying—he checks what  
 wants checking, In peace, out of him speaks the spirit of peace, large,  
 rich, thrifty, building populous towns, encour- 
 aging agriculture, arts, commerce, lighting the  
 study of man, the Soul, health, immortality,  
 government, In war, he is the best backer of the war—he fetches  
 artillery as good as the engineer's—he can make  
 every word he speaks draw blood; The years straying toward infidelity, he withholds by  
 his steady faith, He is no arguer, he is judgment, He judges not as the judge judges, but as the sun  
 falling round a helpless thing; As he sees the farthest he has the most faith, His thoughts are the hymns of the praise of things, In the dispute on God and eternity he is silent, He sees eternity less like a play with a prologue and  
 denouement, He sees eternity in men and women—he does not  
 see men and women as dreams or dots. ²⁴Of the idea of perfect and free individuals, the idea  
 of These States, the bard walks in advance,  
 leader of leaders, The attitude of him cheers up slaves, and horrifies  
 foreign despots. ²⁵Without extinction is Liberty! Without retrograde  
 is Equality! They live in the feelings of young men, and the  
 best women,   [ begin page 117 ]ppp.01500.125.jpg Not for nothing have the indomitable heads of the  
 earth been always ready to fall for Liberty! ²⁶Are YOU indeed for Liberty? Are you a man who would assume a place to teach  
 here, or lead here, or be a poet here? The place is august—the terms obdurate. ²⁷Who would assume to teach here, may well prepare  
 himself, body and mind, He may well survey, ponder, arm, fortify, harden,  
 make lithe, himself, He shall surely be questioned beforehand by me with  
 many and stern questions. ²⁸Who are you, indeed, who would talk or sing in  
 America? Have you studied out MY LAND, its idioms and  
 men? Have you learned the physiology, phrenology, poli- 
 tics, geography, pride, freedom, friendship, of  
 my land? its substratums and objects? Have you considered the organic compact of the first  
 day of the first year of the independence of The  
 States, signed by the Commissioners, ratified by  
 The States, and read by Washington at the head  
 of the army? Have you possessed yourself of the Federal Constitu- 
 tion? Do you acknowledge Liberty with audible and abso- 
 lute acknowledgment, and set slavery at nought  
 for life and death? Do you see who have left described processes and  
 poems behind them, and assumed new ones?   [ begin page 118 ]ppp.01500.126.jpg Are you faithful to things? Do you teach whatever  
 the land and sea, the bodies of men, womanhood,  
 amativeness, angers, excesses, crimes, teach? Have you sped through customs, laws, popularities? Can you hold your hand against all seductions, follies,  
 whirls, fierce contentions? Are you very strong?  
 Are you of the whole people? Are you not of some coterie? some school or religion? Are you done with reviews and criticisms of life? ani- 
 mating to life itself? Have you vivified yourself from the maternity of  
 These States? Have you sucked the nipples of the breasts of the  
 mother of many children? Have you too the old, ever-fresh, forbearance and  
 impartiality? Do you hold the like love for those hardening to  
 maturity? for the last-born? little and big?  
 and for the errant? ²⁹What is this you bring my America? Is it uniform with my country? Is it not something that has been better told or done  
 before? Have you not imported this, or the spirit of it, in  
 some ship? Is it a mere tale? a rhyme? a prettiness? Has it never dangled at the heels of the poets, poli- 
 ticians, literats, of enemies' lands? Does it not assume that what is notoriously gone is  
 still here? Does it answer universal needs? Will it improve  
 manners?   [ begin page 119 ]ppp.01500.127.jpg Can your performance face the open fields and the  
 sea-side? Will it absorb into me as I absorb food, air, nobility,  
 meanness—to appear again in my strength, gait,  
 face? Have real employments contributed to it? original  
 makers—not amanuenses? Does it meet modern discoveries, calibers, facts, face  
 to face? Does it respect me? Democracy? the Soul? to-day? What does it mean to me? to American persons,  
 progresses, cities? Chicago, Kanada, Arkansas?  
 the planter, Yankee, Georgian, native, immi- 
 grant, sailors, squatters, old States, new States? Does it encompass all The States, and the unexcep- 
 tional rights of all the men and women of the  
 earth, the genital impulse of These States? Does it see behind the apparent custodians, the  
 real custodians, standing, menacing, silent, the  
 mechanics, Manhattanese, western men, south- 
 erners, significant alike in their apathy and in  
 the promptness of their love? Does it see what befalls and has always befallen  
 each temporizer, patcher, outsider, partialist,  
 alarmist, infidel, who has ever asked anything  
 of America? What mocking and scornful negligence? The track strewed with the dust of skeletons? By the roadside others disdainfully tossed? ³⁰Rhymes and rhymers pass away—poems distilled  
 from other poems pass away, The swarms of reflectors and the polite pass, and  
 leave ashes;   [ begin page 120 ]ppp.01500.128.jpg Admirers, importers, obedient persons, make the soil  
 of literature; America justifies itself, give it time—no disguise can  
 deceive it, or conceal from it—it is impassive  
 enough, Only toward the likes of itself will it advance to meet  
 them, If its poets appear, it will advance to meet them—  
 there is no fear of mistake, The proof of a poet shall be sternly deferred, till his  
 country absorbs him as affectionately as he has  
 absorbed it. ³¹He masters whose spirit masters—he tastes sweetest  
 who results sweetest in the long run, The blood of the brawn beloved of time is uncon- 
 straint, In the need of poems, philosophy, politics, manners,  
 engineering, an appropriate native grand-opera,  
 shipcraft, any craft, he or she is greatest who  
 contributes the greatest original practical ex- 
 ample. ³²Already a nonchalant breed, silently emerging, fills  
 the houses and streets, People's lips salute only doers, lovers, satisfiers,  
 positive knowers; There will shortly be no more priests—I say their  
 work is done, Death is without emergencies here, but life is per- 
 petual emergencies here, Are your body, days, manners, superb? after death  
 you shall be superb;   [ begin page 121 ]ppp.01500.129.jpg Friendship, self-esteem, justice, health, clear the way  
 with irresistible power; How dare you place anything before a man? ³³Fall behind me, States! A man, before all—myself, typical, before all. ³⁴Give me the pay I have served for! Give me to speak beautiful words! take all the  
 rest; I have loved the earth, sun, animals—I have despised  
 riches, I have given alms to every one that asked, stood up  
 for the stupid and crazy, devoted my income  
 and labor to others, I have hated tyrants, argued not concerning God,  
 had patience and indulgence toward the people,  
 taken off my hat to nothing known or unknown, I have gone freely with powerful uneducated persons,  
 and with the young, and with the mothers of  
 families, I have read these leaves to myself in the open air—  
 I have tried them by trees, stars, rivers, I have dismissed whatever insulted my own Soul or  
 defiled my body, I have claimed nothing to myself which I have not  
 carefully claimed for others on the same terms. I have studied my land, its idioms and men, I am willing to wait to be understood by the growth  
 of the taste of myself, I reject none, I permit all, Whom I have staid with once I have found longing  
 for me ever afterward. 11   [ begin page 122 ]ppp.01500.130.jpg ³⁴I swear I begin to see the meaning of these things! It is not the earth, it is not America, who is so great, It is I who am great, or to be great—it is you, or  
 any one, It is to walk rapidly through civilizations, govern- 
 ments, theories, nature, poems, shows, to indi- 
 viduals. ³⁵Underneath all are individuals, I swear nothing is good to me now that ignores  
 individuals! The American compact is altogether with individuals, The only government is that which makes minute of  
 individuals, The whole theory of the universe is directed to one  
 single individual—namely, to You. ³⁶Underneath all is nativity, I swear I will stand by my own nativity—pious or  
 impious, so be it; I swear I am charmed with nothing except nativity, Men, women, cities, nations, are only beautiful from  
 nativity. ³⁷Underneath all is the need of the expression of love  
 for men and women, I swear I have had enough of mean and impotent  
 modes of expressing love for men and women, After this day I take my own modes of expressing  
 love for men and women. ³⁸I swear I will have each quality of my race in  
 myself,   [ begin page 123 ]ppp.01500.131.jpg Talk as you like, he only suits These States whose  
 manners favor the audacity and sublime turbu- 
 lence of The States. ³⁹Underneath the lessons of things, spirits, nature,  
 governments, ownerships, I swear I perceive  
 other lessons, Underneath all to me is myself—to you, yourself,  
 (the same monotonous old song,) If all had not kernels for you and me, what were it  
 to you and me? ⁴⁰O I see now, flashing, that this America is only you  
 and me, Its power, weapons, testimony, are you and me, Its roughs, beards, haughtiness, ruggedness, are you  
 and me, Its ample geography, the sierras, the prairies, Mis- 
 sissippi, Huron, Colorado, Boston, Toronto,  
 Raleigh, Nashville, Havana, are you and me, Its settlements, wars, the organic compact, peace,  
 Washington, the Federal Constitution, are you  
 and me, Its young men's manners, speech, dress, friendships,  
 are you and me, Its crimes, lies, thefts, defections, slavery, are you  
 and me, Its Congress is you and me—the officers, capitols,  
 armies, ships, are you and me, Its endless gestations of new States are you and me, Its inventions, science, schools, are you and me, Its deserts, forests, clearings, log-houses, hunters, are  
 you and me,   [ begin page 124 ]ppp.01500.132.jpg Natural and artificial are you and me, Freedom, language, poems, employments, are you  
 and me, Failures, successes, births, deaths, are you and me, Past, present, future, are only you and me. ⁴¹I swear I dare not shirk any part of myself, Not any part of America, good or bad, Not my body—not friendship, hospitality, pro- 
 creation, Not my Soul, nor the last explanation of prudence, Not the similitude that interlocks me with all iden- 
 tities that exist, or ever have existed, Not faith, sin, defiance, nor any disposition or duty  
 of myself, Not the promulgation of Liberty—not to cheer up  
 slaves and horrify despots, Not to build for that which builds for mankind, Not to balance ranks, complexions, creeds, and the  
 sexes, Not to justify science, nor the march of equality, Nor to feed the arrogant blood of the brawn beloved  
 of time. ⁴²I swear I am for those that have never been  
 mastered! For men and women whose tempers have never been  
 mastered, For those whom laws, theories, conventions, can never  
 master. ⁴³I swear I am for those who walk abreast with the  
 whole earth! Who inaugurate one to inaugurate all.   [ begin page 125 ]ppp.01500.133.jpg ⁴⁴I swear I will not be outfaced by irrational things! I will penetrate what it is in them that is sarcastic  
 upon me! I will make cities and civilizations defer to me! (This is what I have learnt from America—it is the  
 amount—and it I teach again.) ⁴⁵I will confront these shows of the day and night! I will know if I am to be less than they! I will see if I am not as majestic as they! I will see if I am not as subtle and real as they! I will see if I am to be less generous than they! ⁴⁶I will see if I have no meaning, while the houses and  
 ships have meaning! I will see if the fishes and birds are to be enough  
 for themselves, and I am not to be enough for  
 myself. ⁴⁷I match my spirit against yours, you orbs, growths,  
 mountains, brutes, Copious as you are, I absorb you all in myself, and  
 become the master myself. ⁴⁸The Many In One—what is it finally except myself? These States—what are they except myself? ⁴⁹I have learned why the earth is gross, tantalizing,  
 wicked—it is for my sake, I take you to be mine, you beautiful, terrible, rude  
 forms. 11*   [ begin page 126 ]ppp.01500.134.jpg

CHANTS DEMOCRATIC.

2.

¹BROAD-AXE, shapely, naked, wan! Head from the mother's bowels drawn! Wooded flesh and metal bone! limb only one and  
 lip only one! Gray-blue leaf by red-heat grown! helve produced  
 from a little seed sown! Resting the grass amid and upon, To be leaned, and to lean on. ²Strong shapes, and attributes of strong shapes—  
 masculine trades, sights and sounds, Long varied train of an emblem, dabs of music, Fingers of the organist skipping staccato over the  
 keys of the great organ. ³Welcome are all earth's lands, each for its kind, Welcome are lands of pine and oak, Welcome are lands of the lemon and fig, Welcome are lands of gold, Welcome are lands of wheat and maize—welcome  
 those of the grape, Welcome are lands of sugar and rice, Welcome the cotton-lands—welcome those of the  
 white potato and sweet potato, Welcome are mountains, flats, sands, forests, prairies,   [ begin page 127 ]ppp.01500.135.jpg Welcome the rich borders of rivers, table-lands,  
 openings, Welcome the measureless grazing lands—welcome  
 the teeming soil of orchards, flax, honey, hemp, Welcome just as much the other more hard-faced  
 lands, Lands rich as lands of gold, or wheat and fruit lands, Lands of mines, lands of the manly and rugged ores, Lands of coal, copper, lead, tin, zinc, LANDS OF IRON! lands of the make of the axe! ⁴The log at the wood-pile, the axe supported by it, The sylvan hut, the vine over the doorway, the space  
 cleared for a garden, The irregular tapping of rain down on the leaves,  
 after the storm is lulled, The wailing and moaning at intervals, the thought of  
 the sea, The thought of ships struck in the storm, and put on  
 their beam-ends, and the cutting away of masts; The sentiment of the huge timbers of old-fashioned  
 houses and barns; The remembered print or narrative, the voyage at a  
 venture of men, families, goods, The disembarkation, the founding of a new city, The voyage of those who sought a New England and  
 found it—the outset anywhere, The settlements of the Arkansas, Colorado, Ottawa,  
 Willamette, The slow progress, the scant fare, the axe, rifle,  
 saddle-bags; The beauty of all adventurous and daring persons, The beauty of wood-boys and wood-men, with their  
 clear untrimmed faces,   [ begin page 128 ]ppp.01500.136.jpg The beauty of independence, departure, actions that  
 rely on themselves, The American contempt for statutes and ceremonies,  
 the boundless impatience of restraint, The loose drift of character, the inkling through  
 random types, the solidification; The butcher in the slaughter-house, the hands aboard  
 schooners and sloops, the raftsman, the pioneer, Lumbermen in their winter camp, daybreak in the  
 woods, stripes of snow on the limbs of trees, the  
 occasional snapping, The glad clear sound of one's own voice, the merry  
 song, the natural life of the woods, the strong  
 day's work, The blazing fire at night, the sweet taste of supper,  
 the talk, the bed of hemlock boughs, and the  
 bear-skin; The house-builder at work in cities or anywhere, The preparatory jointing, squaring, sawing, mor- 
 tising, The hoist-up of beams, the push of them in their  
 places, laying them regular, Setting the studs by their tenons in the mortises,  
 according as they were prepared, The blows of mallets and hammers, the attitudes of  
 the men, their curved limbs, Bending, standing, astride the beams, driving in pins,  
 holding on by posts and braces, The hooked arm over the plate, the other arm  
 wielding the axe, The floor-men forcing the planks close, to be nailed, Their postures bringing their weapons downward on  
 the bearers,   [ begin page 129 ]ppp.01500.137.jpg The echoes resounding through the vacant building; The huge store-house carried up in the city, well  
 under way, The six framing-men, two in the middle and two at  
 each end, carefully bearing on their shoulders a  
 heavy stick for a cross-beam, The crowded line of masons with trowels in their  
 right hands, rapidly laying the long side-wall,  
 two hundred feet from front to rear, The flexible rise and fall of backs, the continual click  
 of the trowels striking the bricks, The bricks, one after another, each laid so workman-  
 like in its place, and set with a knock of the  
 trowel-handle, The piles of materials, the mortar on the mortar-  
 boards, and the steady replenishing by the hod- 
 men; Spar-makers in the spar-yard, the swarming row of  
 well-grown apprentices, The swing of their axes on the square-hewed log,  
 shaping it toward the shape of a mast, The brisk short crackle of the steel driven slantingly  
 into the pine, The butter-colored chips flying off in great flakes and  
 slivers, The limber motion of brawny young arms and hips  
 in easy costumes; The constructor of wharves, bridges, piers, bulk-heads,  
 floats, stays against the sea; The city fireman—the fire that suddenly bursts forth  
 in the close-packed square, The arriving engines, the hoarse shouts, the nimble  
 stepping and daring,   [ begin page 130 ]ppp.01500.138.jpg The strong command through the fire-trumpets, the  
 falling in line, the rise and fall of the arms  
 forcing the water, The slender, spasmic blue-white jets—the bringing  
 to bear of the hooks and ladders, and their  
 execution, The crash and cut away of connecting wood-work, or  
 through floors, if the fire smoulders under them, The crowd with their lit faces, watching—the glare  
 and dense shadows; The forger at his forge-furnace, and the user of iron  
 after him, The maker of the axe large and small, and the  
 welder and temperer, The chooser breathing his breath on the cold steel,  
 and trying the edge with his thumb, The one who clean-shapes the handle and sets it  
 firmly in the socket, The shadowy processions of the portraits of the past  
 users also, The primal patient mechanics, the architects and  
 engineers, The far-off Assyrian edifice and Mizra edifice, The Roman lictors preceding the consuls, The antique European warrior with his axe in  
 combat, The uplifted arm, the clatter, of blows on the  
 helmeted head, The death-howl, the limpsey tumbling body, the rush  
 of friend and foe thither, The siege of revolted lieges determined for liberty, The summons to surrender, the battering at castle  
 gates, the truce and parley,   [ begin page 131 ]ppp.01500.139.jpg The sack of an old city in its time, The bursting in of mercenaries and bigots tumul- 
 tuously and disorderly, Roar, flames, blood, drunkenness, madness, Goods freely rifled from houses and temples, screams  
 of women in the gripe of brigands, Craft and thievery of camp-followers, men running,  
 old persons despairing, The hell of war, the cruelties of creeds, The list of all executive deeds and words, just or  
 unjust, The power of personality, just or unjust. ⁵Muscle and pluck forever! What invigorates life, invigorates death, And the dead advance as much as the living advance, And the future is no more uncertain than the present, And the roughness of the earth and of man encloses  
 as much as the delicatesse of the earth and of  
 man, And nothing endures but personal qualities. ⁶What do you think endures? Do you think the greatest city endures? Or a teeming manufacturing state? or a prepared  
 constitution? or the best built steamships? Or hotels of granite and iron? or any chef-d'œuvres  
 of engineering, forts, armaments? ⁷Away! These are not to be cherished for themselves, They fill their hour, the dancers dance, the musicians  
 play for them, The show passes, all does well enough of course, All does very well till one flash of defiance.   [ begin page 132 ]ppp.01500.140.jpg ⁸The greatest city is that which has the greatest man  
 or woman, If it be a few ragged huts, it is still the greatest city  
 in the whole world. ⁹The place where the greatest city stands is not the  
 place of stretched wharves, docks, manufactures,  
 deposits of produce, Nor the place of ceaseless salutes of new comers, or  
 the anchor-lifters of the departing, Nor the place of the tallest and costliest buildings,  
 or shops selling goods from the rest of the earth, Nor the place of the best libraries and schools—nor  
 the place where money is plentiest, Nor the place of the most numerous population. ¹⁰Where the city stands with the brawniest breed of  
 orators and bards, Where the city stands that is beloved by these, and  
 loves them in return, and understands them, Where these may be seen going every day in the  
 streets, with their arms familiar to the shoulders  
 of their friends, Where no monuments exist to heroes, but in the  
 common words and deeds, Where thrift is in its place, and prudence is in its  
 place, Where behavior is the finest of the fine arts, Where the men and women think lightly of the  
 laws, Where the slave ceases, and the master of slaves  
 ceases, Where the populace rise at once against the never- 
 ending audacity of elected persons,   [ begin page 133 ]ppp.01500.141.jpg Where fierce men and women pour forth, as the sea  
 to the whistle of death pours its sweeping and  
 unript waves, Where outside authority enters always after the  
 precedence of inside authority, Where the citizen is always the head and ideal—and  
 President, Mayor, Governor, and what not, are  
 agents for pay, Where children are taught from the jump that they  
 are to be laws to themselves, and to depend on  
 themselves, Where equanimity is illustrated in affairs, Where speculations on the Soul are encouraged, Where women walk in public processions in the  
 streets, the same as the men, Where they enter the public assembly and take  
 places the same as the men, and are appealed  
 to by the orators, the same as the men, Where the city of the faithfulest friends stands, Where the city of the cleanliness of the sexes stands, Where the city of the healthiest fathers stands, Where the city of the best-bodied mothers stands, There the greatest city stands. ¹¹How beggarly appear poems, arguments, orations,  
 before an electric deed! How the floridness of the materials of cities shrivels  
 before a man's or woman's look! ¹²All waits, or goes by default, till a strong being  
 appears; A strong being is the proof of the race, and of the  
 ability of the universe, 12   [ begin page 134 ]ppp.01500.142.jpg When he or she appears, materials are overawed, The dispute on the Soul stops, The old customs and phrases are confronted, turned  
 back, or laid away. ¹³What is your money-making now? What can it do  
 now? What is your respectability now? What are your theology, tuition, society, traditions,  
 statute-books now? Where are your jibes of being now? Where are your cavils about the Soul now? ¹⁴Was that your best? Were those your vast and  
 solid? Riches, opinions, politics, institutions, to part obe- 
 diently from the path of one man or woman! The centuries, and all authority, to be trod under  
 the foot-soles of one man or woman! ¹⁵—A sterile landscape covers the ore—there is as  
 good as the best, for all the forbidding appear- 
 ance, There is the mine, there are the miners, The forge-furnace is there, the melt is accomplished,  
 the hammers-men are at hand with their tongs  
 and hammers, What always served and always serves, is at hand. ¹⁶Than this nothing has better served—it has served  
 all, Served the fluent-tongued and subtle-sensed Greek,  
 and long ere the Greek,   [ begin page 135 ]ppp.01500.143.jpg Served in building the buildings that last longer  
 than any, Served the Hebrew, the Persian, the most ancient  
 Hindostanee, Served the mound-raiser on the Mississippi—served  
 those whose relics remain in Central America, Served Albic temples in woods or on plains, with  
 unhewn pillars, and the druids, and the bloody  
 body laid in the hollow of the great stone, Served the artificial clefts, vast, high, silent, on the  
 snow-covered hills of Scandinavia, Served those who, time out of mind, made on the  
 granite walls rough sketches of the sun, moon,  
 stars, ships, ocean-waves, Served the paths of the irruptions of the Goths—  
 served the pastoral tribes and nomads, Served the incalculably distant Kelt—served the  
 hardy pirates of the Baltic, Served before any of those, the venerable and harm- 
 less men of Ethiopia, Served the making of helms for the galleys of  
 pleasure, and the making of those for war, Served all great works on land, and all great works  
 on the sea, For the mediæval ages, and before the mediæval  
 ages, Served not the living only, then as now, but served  
 the dead. ¹⁷I see the European headsman, He stands masked, clothed in red, with huge legs,  
 and strong naked arms, And leans on a ponderous axe.   [ begin page 136 ]ppp.01500.144.jpg ¹⁸Whom have you slaughtered lately, European heads- 
 man? Whose is that blood upon you, so wet and sticky? ¹⁹I see the clear sunsets of the martyrs, I see from the scaffolds the descending ghosts, Ghosts of dead lords, uncrowned ladies, impeached  
 ministers, rejected kings, Rivals, traitors, poisoners, disgraced chieftains, and  
 the rest. ²⁰I see those who in any land have died for the good  
 cause, The seed is spare, nevertheless the crop shall never  
 run out, (Mind you, O foreign kings, O priests, the crop shall  
 never run out.) ²¹I see the blood washed entirely away from the axe, Both blade and helve are clean, They spirt no more the blood of European nobles—  
 they clasp no more the necks of queens. ²²I see the headsman withdraw and become useless, I see the scaffold untrodden and mouldy—I see no  
 longer any axe upon it, I see the mighty and friendly emblem of the power of  
 my own race, the newest largest race. ²³America! I do not vaunt my love for you, I have what I have. ²⁴The axe leaps! The solid forest gives fluid utterances,   [ begin page 137 ]ppp.01500.145.jpg They tumble forth, they rise and form, Hut, tent, landing, survey, Flail, plough, pick, crowbar, spade, Shingle, rail, prop, wainscot, jamb, lath, panel, gable, Citadel, ceiling, saloon, academy, organ, exhibition-  
 house, library, Cornice, trellis, pilaster, balcony, window, shutter,  
 turret, porch, Hoe, rake, pitch-fork, pencil, wagon, staff, saw, jack- 
 plane, mallet, wedge, rounce, Chair, tub, hoop, table, wicket, vane, sash, floor, Work-box, chest, stringed instrument, boat, frame,  
 and what not, Capitols of States, and capitol of the nation of States, Long stately rows in avenues, hospitals for orphans or  
 for the poor or sick, Manhattan steamboats and clippers, taking the meas- 
 ure of all seas. ²⁵The shapes arise! Shapes of the using of axes anyhow, and the users,  
 and all that neighbors them, Cutters down of wood, and haulers of it to the Pe- 
 nobscot, or Kennebec, Dwellers in cabins among the Californian mountains,  
 or by the little lakes, or on the Columbia, Dwellers south on the banks of the Gila or Rio  
 Grande—friendly gatherings, the characters and  
 fun, Dwellers up north in Minnesota and by the Yellow- 
 stone river—dwellers on coasts and off coasts, Seal-fishers, whalers, arctic seamen breaking passages  
 through the ice. 12*   [ begin page 138 ]ppp.01500.146.jpg ²⁶The shapes arise! Shapes of factories, arsenals, foundries, markets, Shapes of the two-threaded tracks of railroads, Shapes of the sleepers of bridges, vast frameworks,  
 girders, arches, Shapes of the fleets of barges, tows, lake craft, river  
 craft. ²⁷The shapes arise! Ship-yards and dry-docks along the Eastern and  
 Western Seas, and in many a bay and by-place, The live-oak kelsons, the pine planks, the spars, the  
 hackmatack-roots for knees, The ships themselves on their ways, the tiers of  
 scaffolds, the workmen busy outside and inside, The tools lying around, the great auger and little  
 auger, the adze, bolt, line, square, gouge, and  
 bead-plane. ²⁸The shapes arise! The shape measured, sawed, jacked, joined, stained, The coffin-shape for the dead to lie within in his  
 shroud; The shape got out in posts, in the bedstead posts, in  
 the posts of the bride's bed, The shape of the little trough, the shape of the  
 rockers beneath, the shape of the babe's cradle, The shape of the floor-planks, the floor-planks for  
 dancers' feet, The shape of the planks of the family home, the  
 home of the friendly parents and children, The shape of the roof of the home of the happy  
 young man and woman, the roof over the well-  
 married young man and woman,   [ begin page 139 ]ppp.01500.147.jpg The roof over the supper joyously cooked by the  
 chaste wife, and joyously eaten by the chaste  
 husband, content after his day's work. ²⁹The shapes arise! The shape of the prisoner's place in the court-room,  
 and of him or her seated in the place, The shape of the pill-box, the disgraceful ointment-  
 box, the nauseous application, and him or her  
 applying it, The shape of the liquor-bar leaned against by the  
 young rum-drinker and the old rum-drinker, The shape of the shamed and angry stairs, trod by  
 sneaking footsteps, The shape of the sly settee, and the adulterous  
 unwholesome couple, The shape of the gambling-board with its devilish  
 winnings and losings, The shape of the slats of the bed of a corrupted body,  
 the bed of the corruption of gluttony or alcoholic  
 drinks, The shape of the step-ladder for the convicted and  
 sentenced murderer, the murderer with haggard  
 face and pinioned arms, The sheriff at hand with his deputies, the silent and  
 white-lipped crowd, the sickening dangling of  
 the rope. ³⁰The shapes arise! Shapes of doors giving so many exits and en- 
 trances, The door passing the dissevered friend, flushed, and  
 in haste,   [ begin page 140 ]ppp.01500.148.jpg The door that admits good news and bad news, The door whence the son left home, confident and  
 puffed up, The door he entered again from a long and scan- 
 dalous absence, diseased, broken down, without  
 innocence, without means. ³¹Their shapes arise, above all the rest—the shapes of  
 full-sized men, Men taciturn yet loving, used to the open air, and the  
 manners of the open air, Saying their ardor in native forms, saying the old  
 response, Take what I have then, (saying fain,) take the pay  
 you approached for, Take the white tears of my blood, if that is what you  
 are after. ³²Her shape arises, She, less guarded than ever, yet more guarded than  
 ever, The gross and soiled she moves among do not make  
 her gross and soiled, She knows the thoughts as she passes—nothing is  
 concealed from her, She is none the less considerate or friendly therefore, She is the best-beloved—it is without exception—  
 she has no reason to fear, and she does not fear, Oaths, quarrels, hiccupped songs, proposals, smutty  
 expressions, are idle to her as she passes, She is silent—she is possessed of herself—they do  
 not offend her,   [ begin page 141 ]ppp.01500.149.jpg She receives them as the laws of nature receive them  
 —she is strong, She too is a law of nature—there is no law stronger  
 than she is. ³³His shape arises, Arrogant, masculine, näive, rowdyish, Laugher, weeper, worker, idler, citizen, countryman, Saunterer of woods, stander upon hills, summer  
 swimmer in rivers or by the sea, Of pure American breed, of reckless health, his body  
 perfect, free from taint from top to toe, free  
 forever from headache and dyspepsia, clean-  
 breathed, Ample-limbed, a good feeder, weight a hundred and  
 eighty pounds, full-blooded, six feet high, forty  
 inches round the breast and back, Countenance sun-burnt, bearded, calm, unrefined, Reminder of animals, meeter of savage and gentleman  
 on equal terms, Attitudes lithe and erect, costume free, neck gray  
 and open, of slow movement on foot, Passer of his right arm round the shoulders of his  
 friends, companion of the street, Persuader always of people to give him their sweetest  
 touches, and never their meanest, A Manhattanese bred, fond of Brooklyn, fond of  
 Broadway, fond of the life of the wharves and  
 the great ferries, Enterer everywhere, welcomed everywhere, easily  
 understood after all, Never offering others, always offering himself, corrob- 
 orating his phrenology,   [ begin page 142 ]ppp.01500.150.jpg Voluptuous, inhabitive, combative, conscientious,  
 alimentive, intuitive, of copious friendship,  
 sublimity, firmness, self-esteem, comparison,  
 individuality, form, locality, eventuality, Avowing by life, manners, works, to contribute illus- 
 trations of results of The States, Teacher of the unquenchable creed, namely, egotism, Inviter of others continually henceforth to try their  
 strength against his. ³⁴The main shapes arise! Shapes of Democracy, final—result of centuries, Shapes of those that do not joke with life, but are  
 in earnest with life, Shapes, ever projecting other shapes, Shapes of a hundred Free States, begetting another  
 hundred north and south, Shapes of turbulent manly cities, Shapes of an untamed breed of young men, and  
 natural persons, Shapes of the women fit for These States, Shapes of the composition of all the varieties of the  
 earth, Shapes of the friends and home-givers of the whole  
 earth, Shapes bracing the whole earth, and braced with the  
 whole earth.   [ begin page 143 ]ppp.01500.151.jpg

CHANTS DEMOCRATIC.

3.

¹COME closer to me, Push closer, my lovers, and take the best I possess, Yield closer and closer, and give me the best you possess. ²This is unfinished business with me—How is it with  
 you? I was chilled with the cold types, cylinder, wet paper  
 between us. ³Male and Female! I pass so poorly with paper and types, I must pass  
 with the contact of bodies and souls. ⁴American masses! I do not thank you for liking me as I am, and liking  
 the touch of me—I know that it is good for you  
 to do so. ⁵Workmen and Workwomen! Were all educations, practical and ornamental, well  
 displayed out of me, what would it amount to? Were I as the head teacher, charitable proprietor,  
 wise statesman, what would it amount to?   [ begin page 144 ]ppp.01500.152.jpg Were I to you as the boss employing and paying  
 you, would that satisfy you? ⁶The learned, virtuous, benevolent, and the usual  
 terms, A man like me, and never the usual terms. ⁷Neither a servant nor a master am I, I take no sooner a large price than a small price—  
 I will have my own, whoever enjoys me, I will be even with you, and you shall be even  
 with me. ⁸If you stand at work in a shop, I stand as nigh as  
 the nighest in the same shop, If you bestow gifts on your brother or dearest friend,  
 I demand as good as your brother or dearest  
 friend, If your lover, husband, wife, is welcome by day or  
 night, I must be personally as welcome, If you become degraded, criminal, ill, then I become  
 so for your sake, If you remember your foolish and outlawed deeds, do  
 you think I cannot remember my own foolish  
 and outlawed deeds? plenty of them; If you carouse at the table, I carouse at the opposite  
 side of the table, If you meet some stranger in the streets, and love  
 him or her, do I not often meet strangers in the  
 street, and love them? If you see a good deal remarkable in me, I see just  
 as much, perhaps more, in you.   [ begin page 145 ]ppp.01500.153.jpg ⁹Why, what have you thought of yourself? Is it you then that thought yourself less? Is it you that thought the President greater than  
 you? Or the rich better off than you? or the educated  
 wiser than you? ¹⁰Because you are greasy or pimpled, or that you was  
 once drunk, or a thief, or diseased, or rheumatic,  
 or a prostitute, or are so now, or from frivolity or  
 impotence, or that you are no scholar, and never  
 saw your name in print, do you give in that you  
 are any less immortal? ¹¹Souls of men and women! it is not you I call unseen,  
 unheard, untouchable and untouching, It is not you I go argue pro and con about, and to  
 settle whether you are alive or no, I own publicly who you are, if nobody else owns—  
 I see and hear you, and what you give and take, What is there you cannot give and take? ¹²I see not merely that you are polite or white-faced,  
 married, single, citizens of old States, citizens of  
 new States, Eminent in some profession, a lady or gentleman in a  
 parlor, or dressed in the jail uniform, or pulpit  
 uniform; Grown, half-grown, and babe, of this country and  
 every country, indoors and outdoors, one just as  
 much as the other, I see, And all else is behind or through them. 13   [ begin page 146 ]ppp.01500.154.jpg ¹³The wife—and she is not one jot less than the  
 husband, The daughter—and she is just as good as the son, The mother—and she is every bit as much as the  
 father. ¹⁴Offspring of those not rich, boys apprenticed to  
 trades, Young fellows working on farms, and old fellows  
 working on farms, The näive, the simple and hardy, he going to the  
 polls to vote, he who has a good time, and he  
 has who a bad time, Mechanics, southerners, new arrivals, laborers, sailors,  
 man-o'wars-men, merchantmen, coasters, All these I see—but nigher and farther the same I  
 see, None shall escape me, and none shall wish to escape  
 me. ¹⁵I bring what you much need, yet always have, Not money, amours, dress, eating, but as good; I send no agent or medium, offer no representative  
 of value, but offer the value itself. ¹⁶There is something that comes home to one now and  
 perpetually, It is not what is printed, preached, discussed—it  
 eludes discussion and print, It is not to be put in a book—it is not in this  
 book, It is for you, whoever you are—it is no farther from  
 you than your hearing and sight are from you,   [ begin page 147 ]ppp.01500.155.jpg It is hinted by nearest, commonest, readiest—it is  
 not them, though it is endlessly provoked by  
 them, (what is there ready and near you now?) ¹⁷You may read in many languages, yet read nothing  
 about it, You may read the President's Message, and read  
 nothing about it there, Nothing in the reports from the State department or  
 Treasury department, or in the daily papers or  
 the weekly papers, Or in the census returns, assessors' returns, prices  
 current, or any accounts of stock. ¹⁸The sun and stars that float in the open air—the  
 apple-shaped earth, and we upon it—surely the  
 drift of them is something grand! I do not know what it is, except that it is grand,  
 and that it is happiness, And that the enclosing purport of us here is not a  
 speculation, or bon-mot, or reconnoissance, And that it is not something which by luck may  
 turn out well for us, and without luck must be  
 a failure for us, And not something which may yet be retracted in  
 a certain contingency. ¹⁹The light and shade, the curious sense of body  
 and identity, the greed that with perfect com- 
 plaisance devours all things, the endless pride  
 and out-stretching of man, unspeakable joys and  
 sorrows, The wonder every one sees in every one else he sees,  
 and the wonders that fill each minute of time for- 
 ever, and each acre of surface and space forever,   [ begin page 148 ]ppp.01500.156.jpg Have you reckoned them for a trade, or farm-work?  
 or for the profits of a store? or to achieve your- 
 self a position? or to fill a gentleman's leisure,  
 or a lady's leisure? ²⁰Have you reckoned the landscape took substance and  
 form that it might be painted in a picture? Or men and women that they might be written of,  
 and songs sung? Or the attraction of gravity, and the great laws and  
 harmonious combinations, and the fluids of the  
 air, as subjects for the savans? Or the brown land and the blue sea for maps and  
 charts? Or the stars to be put in constellations and named  
 fancy names? Or that the growth of seeds is for agricultural tables,  
 or agriculture itself? ²¹Old institutions—these arts, libraries, legends, col- 
 lections, and the practice handed along in manu- 
 factures—will we rate them so high? Will we rate our cash and business high? I have  
 no objection, I rate them high as the highest—then a child born  
 of a woman and man I rate beyond all rate. ²²We thought our Union grand, and our Constitution  
 grand, I do not say they are not grand and good, for they  
 are, I am this day just as much in love with them as  
 you,   [ begin page 149 ]ppp.01500.157.jpg Then I am in love with you, and with all my fellows  
 upon the earth. ²³We consider bibles and religions divine—I do not  
 say they are not divine, I say they have all grown out of you, and may grow  
 out of you still, It is not they who give the life—it is you who give  
 the life, Leaves are not more shed from the trees, or trees  
 from the earth, than they are shed out of you. ²⁴The sum of all known reverence I add up in you,  
 whoever you are, The President is there in the White House for you—  
 it is not you who are here for him, The Secretaries act in their bureaus for you—not  
 you here for them, The Congress convenes every Twelfth Month for  
 you, Laws, courts, the forming of States, the charters of  
 cities, the going and coming of commerce and  
 mails, are all for you. ²⁵All doctrines, all politics and civilization, exurge from  
 you, All sculpture and monuments, and anything inscribed  
 anywhere, are tallied in you, The gist of histories and statistics as far back as the  
 records reach, is in you this hour, and myths  
 and tales the same, If you were not breathing and walking here, where  
 would they all be? 13*   [ begin page 150 ]ppp.01500.158.jpg The most renowned poems would be ashes, orations  
 and plays would be vacuums. ²⁶All architecture is what you do to it when you look  
 upon it, Did you think it was in the white or gray stone?  
 or the lines of the arches and cornices? ²⁷All music is what awakes from you, when you are  
 reminded by the instruments, It is not the violins and the cornets—it is not the  
 oboe nor the beating drums, nor the score of the  
 baritone singer singing his sweet romanza—nor  
 that of the men's chorus, nor that of the women's  
 chorus, It is nearer and farther than they. ²⁸Will the whole come back then? Can each see signs of the best by a look in the  
 looking-glass? is there nothing greater or more? Does all sit there with you, and here with me? ²⁹The old, forever-new things—you foolish child! the  
 closest, simplest things, this moment with you, Your person, and every particle that relates to your  
 person, The pulses of your brain, waiting their chance and  
 encouragement at every deed or sight, Anything you do in public by day, and anything  
 you do in secret between-days, What is called right and what is called wrong—  
 what you behold or touch, or what causes your  
 anger or wonder,   [ begin page 151 ]ppp.01500.159.jpg The ankle-chain of the slave, the bed of the bed-  
 house, the cards of the gambler, the plates of  
 the forger, What is seen or learnt in the street, or intuitively  
 learnt, What is learnt in the public school, spelling, reading,  
 writing, ciphering, the black-board, the teacher's  
 diagrams, The panes of the windows, all that appears through  
 them, the going forth in the morning, the aimless  
 spending of the day, (What is it that you made money? What is it that you  
 got what you wanted?) The usual routine, the work-shop, factory, yard, office,  
 store, desk, The jaunt of hunting or fishing, and the life of hunt- 
 ing or fishing, Pasture-life, foddering, milking, herding, and all the  
 personnel and usages, The plum-orchard, apple-orchard, gardening, seed- 
 lings, cuttings, flowers, vines, Grains, manures, marl, clay, loam, the subsoil  
 plough, the shovel, pick, rake, hoe, irrigation,  
 draining, The curry-comb, the horse-cloth, the halter, bridle,  
 bits, the very wisps of straw, The barn and barn-yard, the bins, mangers, mows,  
 racks, Manufactures, commerce, engineering, the building of  
 cities, every trade carried on there, and the  
 implements of every trade, The anvil, tongs, hammer, the axe and wedge, the  
 square, mitre, jointer, smoothing-plane,   [ begin page 152 ]ppp.01500.160.jpg The plumbob, trowel, level, the wall-scaffold, the  
 work of walls and ceilings, or any mason-work, The steam-engine, lever, crank, axle, piston, shaft,  
 air-pump, boiler, beam, pulley, hinge, flange,  
 band, bolt, throttle, governors, up and down  
 rods, The ship's compass, the sailor's tarpaulin, the stays  
 and lanyards, the ground tackle for anchoring or  
 mooring, the life-boat for wrecks, The sloop's tiller, the pilot's wheel and bell, the yacht  
 or fish-smack—the great gay-pennanted three-  
 hundred-foot steamboat, under full headway, with  
 her proud fat breasts, and her delicate swift-  
 flashing paddles, The trail, line, hooks, sinkers, and the seine, and  
 hauling the seine, The arsenal, small-arms, rifles, gunpowder, shot, caps,  
 wadding, ordnance for war, and carriages; Every-day objects, house-chairs, carpet, bed, coun- 
 terpane of the bed, him or her sleeping at night,  
 wind blowing, indefinite noises, The snow-storm or rain-storm, the tow-trowsers, the  
 lodge-hut in the woods, the still-hunt, City and country, fire-place, candle, gas-light, heater,  
 aqueduct, The message of the Governor, Mayor, Chief of Police  
 —the dishes of breakfast, dinner, supper, The bunk-room, the fire-engine, the string-team, the  
 car or truck behind, The paper I write on or you write on, every word we  
 write, every cross and twirl of the pen, and the  
 curious way we write what we think, yet very  
 faintly,   [ begin page 153 ]ppp.01500.161.jpg The directory, the detector, the ledger, the books in  
 ranks on the book-shelves, the clock attached to  
 the wall, The ring on your finger, the lady's wristlet, the scent-  
 powder, the druggist's vials and jars, the draught  
 of lager-beer, The etui of surgical instruments, the etui of oculist's  
 or aurist's instruments, or dentist's instruments, The permutating lock that can be turned and locked  
 as many different ways as there are minutes in a  
 year, Glass-blowing, nail-making, salt-making, tin-roofing,  
 shingle-dressing, candle-making, lock-making and  
 hanging, Ship-carpentering, dock-building, fish-curing, ferrying,  
 stone-breaking, flagging of side-walks by flaggers, The pump, the pile-driver, the great derrick, the coal-  
 kiln and brick-kiln, Coal-mines, all that is down there, the lamps in the  
 darkness, echoes, songs, what meditations, what  
 vast native thoughts looking through smutch'd  
 faces, Iron-works, forge-fires in the mountains, or by river- 
 banks, men around feeling the melt with huge  
 crowbars—lumps of ore, the due combining of  
 ore, limestone, coal—the blast-furnace and the  
 puddling-furnace, the loup-lump at the bottom of  
 the melt at last—the rolling-mill, the stumpy  
 bars of pig-iron, the strong clean-shaped T rail  
 for railroads, Oil-works, silk-works, white-lead-works, the sugar- 
 house, steam-saws, the great mills and factories, Lead-mines, and all that is done in lead-mines, or  
 with the lead afterward,   [ begin page 154 ]ppp.01500.162.jpg Copper-mines, the sheets of copper, and what is  
 formed out of the sheets, and all the work in  
 forming it, Stone-cutting, shapely trimmings for façades, or win- 
 dow or door lintels—the mallet, the tooth-chisel,  
 the jib to protect the thumb, Oakum, the oakum-chisel, the caulking-iron—the  
 kettle of boiling vault-cement, and the fire under  
 the kettle, The cotton-bale, the stevedore's hook, the saw and  
 buck of the sawyer, the screen of the coal-  
 screener, the mould of the moulder, the work- 
 ing-knife of the butcher, the ice-saw, and all the  
 work with ice, The four-double cylinder press, the hand-press, the  
 frisket and tympan, the compositor's stick and  
 rule, type-setting, making up the forms, all the  
 work of newspaper counters, folders, carriers,  
 news-men, The implements for daguerreotyping—the tools of  
 the rigger, grappler, sail-maker, block-maker, Goods of gutta-percha, papier-mache, colors, brushes,  
 brush-making, glazier's implements, The veneer and glue-pot, the confectioner's orna- 
 ments, the decanter and glasses, the shears and  
 flat-iron, The awl and knee-strap, the pint measure and quart  
 measure, the counter and stool, the writing-pen  
 of quill or metal—the making of all sorts of  
 edged tools, The ladders and hanging-ropes of the gymnasium,  
 manly exercises, the game of base-ball, running,  
 leaping, pitching quoits,   [ begin page 155 ]ppp.01500.163.jpg The designs for wall-papers, oil-cloths, carpets, the  
 fancies for goods for women, the book-binder's  
 stamps, The brewery, brewing, the malt, the vats, every  
 thing that is done by brewers, also by wine- 
 makers, also vinegar-makers, Leather-dressing, coach-making, boiler-making, rope-  
 twisting, distilling, sign-painting, lime-burning,  
 coopering, cotton-picking—electro-plating, elec- 
 trotyping, stereotyping, Stave-machines, planing-machines, reaping-machines,  
 ploughing-machines, thrashing-machines, steam-  
 wagons, The cart of the carman, the omnibus, the ponderous  
 dray, The wires of the electric telegraph stretched on land,  
 or laid at the bottom of the sea, and then the  
 message in an instant from a thousand miles off, The snow-plough, and two engines pushing it—the  
 ride in the express-train of only one car, the  
 swift go through a howling storm—the locomo- 
 tive, and all that is done about a locomotive, The bear-hunt or coon-hunt—the bonfire of shavings  
 in the open lot in the city, and the crowd of  
 children watching, The blows of the fighting-man, the upper-cut, and  
 one-two-three, Pyrotechny, letting off colored fire-works at night,  
 fancy figures and jets, Shop-windows, coffins in the sexton's ware-room, fruit  
 on the fruit-stand—beef in the butcher's stall,  
 the slaughter-house of the butcher, the butcher  
 in his killing-clothes,   [ begin page 156 ]ppp.01500.164.jpg The area of pens of live pork, the killing-hammer, the  
 hog-hook, the scalder's tub, gutting, the cutter's  
 cleaver, the packer's maul, and the plenteous  
 winter-work of pork-packing, Flour-works, grinding of wheat, rye, maize, rice—  
 the barrels and the half and quarter barrels, the  
 loaded barges, the high piles on wharves and  
 levees, Bread and cakes in the bakery, the milliner's rib- 
 bons, the dress-maker's patterns, the tea-table,  
 the home-made sweetmeats; Cheap literature, maps, charts, lithographs, daily and  
 weekly newspapers, The column of wants in the one-cent paper, the news  
 by telegraph, amusements, operas, shows, The business parts of a city, the trottoirs of a city  
 when thousands of well-dressed people walk up  
 and down, The cotton, woollen, linen you wear, the money you  
 make and spend, Your room and bed-room, your piano-forte, the stove  
 and cook-pans, The house you live in, the rent, the other tenants, the  
 deposit in the savings-bank, the trade at the  
 grocery, The pay on Seventh Day night, the going home, and  
 the purchases; In them the heft of the heaviest—in them far more  
 than you estimated, and far less also, In them realities for you and me—in them poems for  
 you and me, In them, not yourself—you and your Soul enclose all  
 things, regardless of estimation,   [ begin page 157 ]ppp.01500.165.jpg In them themes, hints, provokers—if not, the whole  
 earth has no themes, hints, provokers, and never  
 had. ³⁰I do not affirm what you see beyond is futile—I do  
 not advise you to stop, I do not say leadings you thought great are not great, But I say that none lead to greater, sadder, happier,  
 than those lead to. ³¹Will you seek afar off? You surely come back at last, In things best known to you, finding the best, or as  
 good as the best, In folks nearest to you finding also the sweetest,  
 strongest, lovingest, Happiness, knowledge, not in another place, but this  
 place—not for another hour, but this hour, Man in the first you see or touch—always in your  
 friend, brother, nighest neighbor—Woman in  
 your mother, lover, wife, The popular tastes and occupations taking precedence  
 in poems or any where, You workwomen and workmen of These States having  
 your own divine and strong life, Looking the President always sternly in the face,  
 unbending, nonchalant, Understanding that he is to be kept by you to short  
 and sharp account of himself, And all else thus far giving place to men and women  
 like you. ³²O you robust, sacred! I cannot tell you how I love you; 14   [ begin page 158 ]ppp.01500.166.jpg All I love America for, is contained in men and  
 women like you. ³³When the psalm sings instead of the singer, When the script preaches instead of the preacher, When the pulpit descends and goes instead of the  
 carver that carved the supporting-desk, When I can touch the body of books, by night or by  
 day, and when they touch my body back again, When the holy vessels, or the bits of the eucharist,  
 or the lath and plast, procreate as effectually as  
 the young silver-smiths or bakers, or the masons  
 in their over-alls, When a university course convinces like a slumbering  
 woman and child convince, When the minted gold in the vault smiles like the  
 night-watchman's daughter, When warrantee deeds loafe in chairs opposite, and  
 are my friendly companions, I intend to reach them my hand, and make as much  
 of them as I do of men and women like you.   [ begin page 159 ]ppp.01500.167.jpg

CHANTS DEMOCRATIC.

4.

AMERICA always! Always me joined with you, whoever you are! Always our own feuillage! Always Florida's green peninsula! Always the price- 
 less delta of Louisiana! Always the cotton-fields  
 of Alabama and Texas! Always California's golden hills and hollows—and  
 the silver mountains of New Mexico! Always  
 soft-breath'd Cuba! Always the vast slope drained by the Southern Sea  
 —inseparable with the slopes drained by the  
 Eastern and Western Seas, The area the Eighty-third year of These States—the  
 three and a half millions of square miles, The eighteen thousand miles of sea-coast and bay- 
 coast on the main—the thirty thousand miles  
 of river navigation, The seven millions of distinct families, and the same  
 number of dwellings—Always these and more, 
 branching forth into numberless branches; Always the free range and diversity! Always the  
 continent of Democracy! Always the prairies, pastures, forests, vast cities, 
 travellers, Kanada, the snows;   [ begin page 160 ]ppp.01500.168.jpg Always these compact lands—lands tied at the hips  
 with the belt stringing the huge oval lakes; Always the West, with strong native persons—the  
 increasing density there—the habitans, friendly, 
 threatening, ironical, scorning invaders; All sights, South, North, East—all deeds, promis- 
 cuously done at all times, All characters, movements, growths—a few noticed, 
 myriads unnoticed, Through Mannahatta's streets I walking, these things  
 gathering; On interior rivers, by night, in the glare of pine  
 knots, steamboats wooding up; Sunlight by day on the valley of the Susquehanna, 
 and on the valleys of the Potomac and Rappa- 
 hannock, and the valleys of the Roanoke and  
 Delaware; In their northerly wilds beasts of prey haunting the  
 Adirondacks, the hills—or lapping the Saginaw  
 waters to drink; In a lonesome inlet, a sheldrake, lost from the flock, 
 sitting on the water, rocking silently; In farmers' barns, oxen in the stable, their harvest  
 labor done—they rest standing—they are too  
 tired; Afar on arctic ice, the she-walrus lying drowsily, 
 while her cubs play around; The hawk sailing where men have not yet sailed— 
 the farthest polar sea, ripply, crystalline, open, 
 beyond the floes; White drift spooning ahead, where the ship in the  
 tempest dashes; On solid land, what is done in cities, as the bells all  
 strike midnight together;   [ begin page 161 ]ppp.01500.169.jpg In primitive woods, the sounds there also sounding— 
 the howl of the wolf, the scream of the panther, 
 and the hoarse bellow of the elk; In winter beneath the hard blue ice of Moosehead  
 Lake—in summer visible through the clear  
 waters, the great trout swimming; In lower latitudes, in warmer air, in the Carolinas, 
 the large black buzzard floating slowly high  
 beyond the tree-tops, Below, the red cedar, festooned with tylandria—the  
 pines and cypresses, growing out of the white  
 sand that spreads far and flat; Rude boats descending the big Pedee—climbing  
 plants, parasites, with colored flowers and berries, 
 enveloping huge trees, The waving drapery on the live oak, trailing long and  
 low, noiselessly waved by the wind; The camp of Georgia wagoners, just after dark—the  
 supper-fires, and the cooking and eating by  
 whites and negroes, Thirty or forty great wagons—the mules, cattle, 
 horses, feeding from troughs, The shadows, gleams, up under the leaves of the old  
 sycamore-trees—the flames—also the black  
 smoke from the pitch-pine, curling and rising; Southern fishermen fishing—the sounds and inlets  
 of North Carolina's coast—the shad-fishery  
 and the herring-fishery—the large sweep-seines  
 —the windlasses on shore worked by horses— 
 the clearing, curing, and packing houses; Deep in the forest, in the piney woods, turpentine  
 and tar dropping from the incisions in the trees  
 —There is the turpentine distillery, 14*   [ begin page 162 ]ppp.01500.170.jpg There are the negroes at work, in good health—the  
 ground in all directions is covered with pine  
 straw; In Tennessee and Kentucky, slaves busy in the coal- 
 ings, at the forge, by the furnace-blaze, or at the  
 corn-shucking; In Virginia, the planter's son returning after a long  
 absence, joyfully welcomed and kissed by the  
 aged mulatto nurse; On rivers, boatmen safely moored at night-fall, in their  
 boats, under the shelter of high banks, Some of the younger men dance to the sound of the  
 banjo or fiddle—others sit on the gunwale, 
 smoking and talking; Late in the afternoon, the mocking-bird, the American  
 mimic, singing in the Great Dismal Swamp— 
 there are the greenish waters, the resinous odor, 
 the plenteous moss, the cypress tree, and the  
 juniper tree; Northward, young men of Mannahatta—the target  
 company from an excursion returning home at  
 evening—the musket-muzzles all bear bunches  
 of flowers presented by women; Children at play—or on his father's lap a young boy  
 fallen asleep, (how his lips move! how he smiles  
 in his sleep!) The scout riding on horseback over the plains west of  
 the Mississippi—he ascends a knoll and sweeps  
 his eye around; California life—the miner, bearded, dressed in his  
 rude costume—the stanch California friendship  
 —the sweet air—the graves one, in passing, 
 meets, solitary, just aside the horse-path;   [ begin page 163 ]ppp.01500.171.jpg Down in Texas, the cotton-field, the negro-cabins— 
 drivers driving mules or oxen before rude carts  
 —cotton-bales piled on banks and wharves; Encircling all, vast-darting, up and wide, the Amer- 
 ican Soul, with equal hemispheres—one Love, 
 one Dilation or Pride; In arriere, the peace-talk with the Iroquois, the  
 aborigines—the calumet, the pipe of good-will  
 arbitration, and indorsement, The sachem blowing the smoke first toward the sun  
 and then toward the earth, The drama of the scalp-dance enacted with painted  
 faces and guttural exclamations, The setting out of the war-party—the long and  
 stealthy march, The single file—the swinging hatchets—the surprise  
 and slaughter of enemies; All the acts, scenes, ways, persons, attitudes of These  
 States—reminiscences, all institutions, All These States, compact—Every square mile of  
 These States, without excepting a particle—you  
 also—me also, Me pleased, rambling in lanes and country fields, 
 Paumanok's fields, Me, observing the spiral flight of two little yellow  
 butterflies, shuffling between each other, ascend- 
 ing high in the air; The darting swallow, the destroyer of insects—the  
 fall traveller southward, but returning northward  
 early in the spring; The country boy at the close of the day, driving the  
 herd of cows, and shouting to them as they loiter  
 to browse by the road-side;   [ begin page 164 ]ppp.01500.172.jpg The city wharf—Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, 
 Charleston, New Orleans, San Francisco, The departing ships, when the sailors heave at the  
 capstan; Evening—me in my room—the setting sun, The setting summer sun shining in my open window, 
 showing me flies, suspended, balancing in the  
 air in the centre of the room, darting athwart, 
 up and down, casting swift shadows in specks on  
 the opposite wall, where the shine is; The athletic American matron speaking in public to  
 crowds of listeners; Males, females, immigrants, combinations—the co- 
 piousness—the individuality and sovereignty  
 of The States, each for itself—the money- 
 makers; Factories, machinery, the mechanical forces—the  
 windlass, lever, pulley—All certainties, The certainty of space, increase, freedom, futurity, In space, the sporades, the scattered islands, the stars  
 —on the firm earth, the lands, my lands, O lands! all so dear to me—what you are, (what- 
 ever it is,) I become a part of that, whatever  
 it is, Southward there, I screaming, with wings slow flap- 
 ping, with the myriads of gulls wintering along  
 the coasts of Florida—or in Louisiana, with  
 pelicans breeding, Otherways, there, atwixt the banks of the Arkansaw, 
 the Rio Grande, the Nueces, the Brazos, the  
 Tombigbee, the Red River, the Saskatchawan, or  
 the Osage, I with the spring waters laughing and  
 skipping and running;   [ begin page 165 ]ppp.01500.173.jpg Northward, on the sands, on some shallow bay of  
 Paumanok, I, with parties of snowy herons  
 wading in the wet to seek worms and aquatic  
 plants; Retreating, triumphantly twittering, the king-bird, 
 from piercing the crow with its bill, for amuse- 
 ment—And I triumphantly twittering; The migrating flock of wild geese alighting in autumn  
 to refresh themselves—the body of the flock feed  
 —the sentinels outside move around with erect  
 heads watching, and are from time to time re- 
 lieved by other sentinels—And I feeding and  
 taking turns with the rest; In Kanadian forests, the moose, large as an ox, cor- 
 nered by hunters, rising desperately on his hind- 
 feet, and plunging with his fore-feet, the hoofs  
 as sharp as knives—And I, plunging at the  
 hunters, cornered and desperate; In the Mannahatta, streets, piers, shipping, store- 
 houses, and the countless workmen working in  
 the shops, And I too of the Mannahatta, singing thereof—and  
 no less in myself than the whole of the Manna- 
 hatta in itself, Singing the song of These, my ever united lands  
 —my body no more inevitably united, part to  
 part, and made one identity, any more than  
 my lands are inevitably united, and made ONE  
 IDENTITY, Nativities, climates, the grass of the great Pastoral  
 Plains, Cities, labors, death, animals, products, good and evil  
 —these me,   [ begin page 166 ]ppp.01500.174.jpg These affording, in all their particulars, endless  
 feuillage to me and to America, how can I do  
 less than pass the clew of the union of them, to  
 afford the like to you? Whoever you are! how can I but offer you divine  
 leaves, that you also be eligible as I am? How can I but, as here, chanting, invite you for  
 yourself to collect bouquets of the incomparable  
 feuillage of These States?

5.

RESPONDEZ! Respondez! Let every one answer! Let those who sleep be  
 waked! Let none evade—not you, any more  
 than others! (If it really be as is pretended, how much longer must  
 we go on with our affectations and sneaking? Let me bring this to a close—I pronounce openly for  
 a new distribution of roles,) Let that which stood in front go behind! and let  
 that which was behind advance to the front and  
 speak! Let murderers, thieves, bigots, fools, unclean persons, 
 offer new propositions! Let the old propositions be postponed! Let faces and theories be turned inside out! Let  
 meanings be freely criminal, as well as results!   [ begin page 167 ]ppp.01500.175.jpg Let there be no suggestion above the suggestion of  
 drudgery! Let none be pointed toward his destination! (Say! 
 do you know your destination?) Let trillions of men and women be mocked with  
 bodies and mocked with Souls! Let the love that waits in them, wait! Let it die, 
 or pass still-born to other spheres! Let the sympathy that waits in every man, wait! 
 or let it also pass, a dwarf, to other spheres! Let contradictions prevail! Let one thing contradict  
 another! and let one line of my poems contradict  
 another! Let the people sprawl with yearning aimless hands! 
 Let their tongues be broken! Let their eyes be  
 discouraged! Let none descend into their hearts  
 with the fresh lusciousness of love! Let the theory of America be management, caste, 
 comparison! (Say! what other theory would  
 you?) Let them that distrust birth and death lead the  
 rest! (Say! why shall they not lead you?) Let the crust of hell be neared and trod on! Let the  
 days be darker than the nights! Let slumber  
 bring less slumber than waking-time brings! Let the world never appear to him or her for whom  
 it was all made! Let the heart of the young man exile itself from the  
 heart of the old man! and let the heart of the  
 old man be exiled from that of the young man! Let the sun and moon go! Let scenery take the  
 applause of the audience! Let there be apathy  
 under the stars!   [ begin page 168 ]ppp.01500.176.jpg Let freedom prove no man's inalienable right! Every  
 one who can tyrannize, let him tyrannize to his  
 satisfaction! Let none but infidels be countenanced! Let the eminence of meanness, treachery, sarcasm, 
 hate, greed, indecency, impotence, lust, be taken  
 for granted above all! Let writers, judges, gov- 
 ernments, households, religions, philosophies, take  
 such for granted above all! Let the worst men beget children out of the worst  
 women! Let priests still play at immortality! Let Death be inaugurated! Let nothing remain upon the earth except the ashes of  
 teachers, artists, moralists, lawyers, and learned  
 and polite persons! Let him who is without my poems be assassinated! Let the cow, the horse, the camel, the garden-bee— 
 Let the mud-fish, the lobster, the mussel, eel, the  
 sting-ray, and the grunting pig-fish—Let these, 
 and the like of these, be put on a perfect equality  
 with man and woman! Let churches accommodate serpents, vermin, and the  
 corpses of those who have died of the most filthy  
 of diseases! Let marriage slip down among fools, and be for none  
 but fools! Let men among themselves talk and think obscenely  
 of women! and let women among themselves  
 talk and think obscenely of men! Let every man doubt every woman! and let every  
 woman trick every man!   [ begin page 169 ]ppp.01500.177.jpg Let us all, without missing one, be exposed in public, 
 naked, monthly, at the peril of our lives! Let  
 our bodies be freely handled and examined by  
 whoever chooses! Let nothing but copies, pictures, statues, reminis- 
 cences, elegant works, be permitted to exist  
 upon the earth! Let the earth desert God, nor let there ever hence- 
 forth be mentioned the name of God! Let there be no God! Let there be money, business, imports, exports, cus- 
 tom, authority, precedents, pallor, dyspepsia, 
 smut, ignorance, unbelief! Let judges and criminals be transposed! Let the  
 prison-keepers be put in prison! Let those that  
 were prisoners take the keys! (Say! why might  
 they not just as well be transposed?) Let the slaves be masters! Let the masters become  
 slaves! Let the reformers descend from the stands where  
 they are forever bawling! Let an idiot or insane  
 person appear on each of the stands! Let the Asiatic, the African, the European, the  
 American and the Australian, go armed against  
 the murderous stealthiness of each other! Let  
 them sleep armed! Let none believe in good-will! Let there be no unfashionable wisdom! Let such be  
 scorned and derided off from the earth! Let a floating cloud in the sky—Let a wave of the  
 sea—Let one glimpse of your eye-sight upon the  
 landscape or grass—Let growing mint, spinach, 
 onions, tomatoes—Let these be exhibited as  
 shows at a great price for admission! 15   [ begin page 170 ]ppp.01500.178.jpg Let all the men of These States stand aside for a  
 few smouchers! Let the few seize on what they  
 choose! Let the rest gawk, giggle, starve, obey! Let shadows be furnished with genitals! Let sub- 
 stances be deprived of their genitals! Let there be wealthy and immense cities—but  
 through any of them, not a single poet, saviour, 
 knower, lover! Let the infidels of These States laugh all faith away! 
 If one man be found who has faith, let the rest  
 set upon him! Let them affright faith! Let  
 them destroy the power of breeding faith! Let the she-harlots and the he-harlots be prudent! 
 Let them dance on, while seeming lasts! (O  
 seeming! seeming! seeming!) Let the preachers recite creeds! Let them teach only  
 what they have been taught! Let the preachers of creeds never dare to go meditate  
 candidly upon the hills, alone, by day or by  
 night! (If one ever once dare, he is lost!) Let insanity have charge of sanity! Let books take the place of trees, animals, rivers, 
 clouds! Let the daubed portraits of heroes supersede heroes! Let the manhood of man never take steps after itself! 
 Let it take steps after eunuchs, and after con- 
 sumptive and genteel persons! Let the white person tread the black person under his  
 heel! (Say! which is trodden under heel, after  
 all ?) Let the reflections of the things of the world be studied  
 in mirrors! Let the things themselves continue  
 unstudied!   [ begin page 171 ]ppp.01500.179.jpg Let a man seek pleasure everywhere except in him- 
 self! Let a woman seek happiness everywhere  
 except in herself! (Say! what real happiness  
 have you had one single time through your whole  
 life ?) Let the limited years of life do nothing for the limit- 
 less years of death! (Say! what do you suppose  
 death will do, then ?)

6.

¹YOU just maturing youth! You male or female! Remember the organic compact of These States, Remember the pledge of the Old Thirteen thence- 
 forward to the rights, life, liberty, equality of  
 man, Remember what was promulged by the founders, rat- 
 ified by The States, signed in black and white by  
 the Commissioners, and read by Washington at  
 the head of the army, Remember the purpose of the founders,—Remember  
 Washington; Remember the copious humanity streaming from every  
 direction toward America; Remember the hospitality that belongs to nations and  
 men; (Cursed be nation, woman, man, without  
 hospitality!) Remember, government is to subserve individuals,   [ begin page 172 ]ppp.01500.180.jpg Not any, not the President, is to have one jot more  
 than you or me, Not any habitan of America is to have one jot less  
 than you or me. ²Anticipate when the thirty or fifty millions, are to be- 
 come the hundred, or two hundred millions, of  
 equal freemen and freewomen, amicably joined. ³Recall ages—One age is but a part—ages are but a  
 part; Recall the angers, bickerings, delusions, superstitions,  
 of the idea of caste, Recall the bloody cruelties and crimes. ⁴Anticipate the best women; I say an unnumbered new race of hardy and well- 
 defined women are to spread through all These  
 States, I say a girl fit for These States must be free, capable,  
 dauntless, just the same as a boy. ⁵Anticipate your own life—retract with merciless  
 power, Shirk nothing—retract in time—Do you see those  
 errors, diseases, weaknesses, lies, thefts? Do you see that lost character?—Do you see de- 
 cay, consumption, rum-drinking, dropsy, fever,  
 mortal cancer or inflammation? Do you see death, and the approach of death? ⁶Think of the Soul; I swear to you that body of yours gives proportions to  
 your Soul somehow to live in other spheres, I do not know how, but I know it is so.   [ begin page 173 ]ppp.01500.181.jpg ⁷Think of loving and being loved; I swear to you, whoever you are, you can interfuse  
 yourself with such things that everybody that sees  
 you shall look longingly upon you. ⁸Think of the past; I warn you that in a little while, others will find their  
 past in you and your times. ⁹The race is never separated—nor man nor woman  
 escapes, All is inextricable—things, spirits, nature, nations,  
 you too—from precedents you come. ¹⁰Recall the ever-welcome defiers, (The mothers precede  
 them;) Recall the sages, poets, saviours, inventors, lawgivers,  
 of the earth, Recall Christ, brother of rejected persons—brother  
 of slaves, felons, idiots, and of insane and diseased  
 persons. ¹¹Think of the time when you was not yet born, Think of times you stood at the side of the dying, Think of the time when your own body will be dying. ¹²Think of spiritual results, Sure as the earth swims through the heavens, does  
 every one of its objects pass into spiritual results. ¹³Think of manhood, and you to be a man; Do you count manhood, and the sweet of manhood,  
 nothing? 15*   [ begin page 174 ]ppp.01500.182.jpg ¹⁴Think of womanhood, and you to be a woman; The creation is womanhood, Have I not said that womanhood involves all? Have I not told how the universe has nothing better  
 than the best womanhood?

7.

¹WITH antecedents, With my fathers and mothers, and the accumulations  
 of past ages, With all which, had it not been, I would not now be  
 here, as I am, With Egypt, India, Phenicia, Greece, and Rome, With the Celt, the Scandinavian, the Alb, and the  
 Saxon, With antique maritime ventures—with laws, arti- 
 sanship, wars, and journeys, With the poet, the skald, the saga, the myth, and the  
 oracle, With the sale of slaves—with enthusiasts—with  
 the troubadour, the crusader, and the monk, With those old continents whence we have come to this  
 new continent, With the fading kingdoms and kings over there, With the fading religions and priests, With the small shores we look back to, from our own  
 large and present shores,   [ begin page 175 ]ppp.01500.183.jpg With countless years drawing themselves onward, and  
 arrived at these years, You and Me arrived—America arrived, and making  
 this year, This year! sending itself ahead countless years to  
 come. ²O but it is not the years—it is I—it is You, We touch all laws, and tally all antecedents, We are the skald, the oracle, the monk, and the  
 knight—we easily include them, and more, We stand amid time, beginningless and endless—we  
 stand amid evil and good, All swings around us—there is as much darkness as  
 light, The very sun swings itself and its system of planets  
 around us, Its sun, and its again, all swing around us. ³As for me, I have the idea of all, and an all, and believe in all; I believe materialism is true, and spiritualism is true—  
 I reject no part. ⁴Have I forgotten any part? Come to me, whoever and whatever, till I give you  
 recognition. ⁵I respect Assyria, China, Teutonia, and the Hebrews, I adopt each theory, myth, god, and demi-god, I see that the old accounts, bibles, genealogies, are  
 true, without exception, I assert that all past days were what they should have  
 been,   [ begin page 176 ]ppp.01500.184.jpg And that they could no-how have been better than  
 they were, And that to-day is what it should be—and that  
 America is, And that to-day and America could no-how be better  
 than they are. ⁶In the name of These States, and in your and my  
 name, the Past, And in the name of These States, and in your and my  
 name, the Present time. ⁷I know that the past was great, and the future will  
 be great, And I know that both curiously conjoint in the pres- 
 ent time, (For the sake of him I typify—for the common  
 average man's sake—your sake, if you are he;) And that where I am, or you are, this present day,  
 there is the centre of all days, all races, And there is the meaning, to us, of all that has ever  
 come of races and days, or ever will come.

8.

¹SPLENDOR of falling day, floating and filling me, Hour prophetic—hour resuming the past, Inflating my throat—you, divine average! You, Earth and Life, till the last ray gleams, I sing.   [ begin page 177 ]ppp.01500.185.jpg ²Open mouth of my Soul, uttering gladness, Eyes of my Soul, seeing perfection, Natural life of me, faithfully praising things, Corroborating forever the triumph of things. ³Illustrious every one! Illustrious what we name space—sphere of unnum- 
 bered spirits, Illustrious the mystery of motion, in all beings, even  
 the tiniest insect, Illustrious the attribute of speech—the senses—the  
 body, Illustrious the passing light! Illustrious the pale  
 reflection on the moon in the western sky! Illustrious whatever I see, or hear, or touch, to the  
 last. ⁴Good in all, In the satisfaction and aplomb of animals, In the annual return of the seasons, In the hilarity of youth, In the strength and flush of manhood, In the grandeur and exquisiteness of old age, In the superb vistas of Death. ⁵Wonderful to depart! Wonderful to be here! The heart, to jet the all-alike and innocent blood, To breathe the air, how delicious! To speak! to walk! to seize something by the hand! To prepare for sleep, for bed—to look on my rose-  
 colored flesh, To be conscious of my body, so amorous, so large,   [ begin page 178 ]ppp.01500.186.jpg To be this incredible God I am, To have gone forth among other Gods—those men  
 and women I love. ⁶Wonderful how I celebrate you and myself! How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles  
 around! How the clouds pass silently overhead! How the earth darts on and on! and how the sun,  
 moon, stars, dart on and on! How the water sports and sings! (Surely it is  
 alive!) How the trees rise and stand up—with strong trunks  
 —with branches and leaves! (Surely there is something more in each of the trees—  
 some living Soul.) ⁷O amazement of things! even the least particle! O spirituality of things! O strain musical, flowing through ages and continents  
 —now reaching me and America! I take your strong chords—I intersperse them, and  
 cheerfully pass them forward. ⁸I too carol the sun, ushered, or at noon, or setting, I too throb to the brain and beauty of the earth, and  
 of all the growths of the earth, I too have felt the resistless call of myself. ⁹As I sailed down the Mississippi, As I wandered over the prairies, As I have lived—As I have looked through my  
 windows, my eyes,   [ begin page 179 ]ppp.01500.187.jpg As I went forth in the morning—As I beheld the  
 light breaking in the east, As I bathed on the beach of the Eastern Sea, and  
 again on the beach on the Western Sea, As I roamed the streets of inland Chicago—whatever  
 streets I have roamed, Wherever I have been, I have charged myself with  
 contentment and triumph. ¹⁰I sing the Equalities, I sing the endless finales of things, I say Nature continues—Glory continues, I praise with electric voice, For I do not see one imperfection in the universe, And I do not see one cause or result lamentable at  
 last in the universe. ¹¹O setting sun! O when the time comes, I still warble under you, if none else does, unmiti- 
 gated adoration!

9.

A THOUGHT of what I am here for, Of these years I sing—how they pass through con- 
 vulsed pains, as through parturitions; How America illustrates birth, gigantic youth, the  
 promise, the sure fulfilment, despite of people  
 —Illustrates evil as well as good;   [ begin page 180 ]ppp.01500.188.jpg Of how many hold despairingly yet to the models  
 departed, caste, myths, obedience, compulsion, 
 and to infidelity; How few see the arrived models, the Athletes, The  
 States—or see freedom or spirituality—or hold  
 any faith in results, (But I see the Athletes—and I see the results  
 glorious and inevitable—and they again leading  
 to other results;) How the great cities appear—How the Democratic  
 masses, turbulent, wilful, as I love them, How the whirl, the contest, the wrestle of evil with  
 good, the sounding and resounding, keep on  
 and on; How society waits unformed, and is between things  
 ended and things begun; How America is the continent of glories, and of the  
 triumph of freedom, and of the Democracies, and  
 of the fruits of society, and of all that is begun; And how The States are complete in themselves— 
 And how all triumphs and glories are complete  
 in themselves, to lead onward, And how these of mine, and of The States, will in  
 their turn be convulsed, and serve other par- 
 turitions and transitions, And how all people, sights, combinations, the Demo- 
 cratic masses too, serve—and how every fact  
 serves, And how now, or at any time, each serves the  
 exquisite transition of Death.   [ begin page 181 ]ppp.01500.189.jpg

10.

HISTORIAN! you who celebrate bygones! You have explored the outward, the surface of the  
 races—the life that has exhibited itself, You have treated man as the creature of politics, 
 aggregates, rulers, and priests; But now I also, arriving, contribute something: I, an habitué of the Alleghanies, treat man as he is in  
 the influences of Nature, in himself, in his own  
 inalienable rights, Advancing, to give the spirit and the traits of new  
 Democratic ages, myself, personally, (Let the future behold them all in me—Me, so  
 puzzling and contradictory—Me, a Manhattan- 
 ese, the most loving and arrogant of men;) I do not tell the usual facts, proved by records and  
 documents, What I tell, (talking to every born American,) 
 requires no further proof than he or she who  
 will hear me, will furnish, by silently meditating  
 alone; I press the pulse of the life that has hitherto seldom  
 exhibited itself, but has generally sought con- 
 cealment, (the great pride of man, in himself,) I illuminate feelings, faults, yearnings, hopes—I  
 have come at last, no more ashamed nor afraid; Chanter of Personality, outlining a history yet to be, I project the ideal man, the American of the future. 16   [ begin page 182 ]ppp.01500.190.jpg

11.

THE thought of fruitage, Of Death, (the life greater)—of seeds dropping into  
 the ground—of birth, Of the steady concentration of America, inland, 
 upward, to impregnable and swarming places, Of what Indiana, Kentucky, Ohio and the rest, are  
 to be, Of what a few years will show there in Missouri, 
 Kansas, Iowa, Wisconsin, Minnesota and the  
 rest, Of what the feuillage of America is the preparation  
 for—and of what all the sights, North, South, 
 East and West, are; Of the temporary use of materials for identity's  
 sake, Of departing—of the growth of a mightier race  
 than any yet, Of myself, soon, perhaps, closing up my songs by  
 these shores, Of California—of Oregon—and of me journeying  
 hence to live and sing there; Of the Western Sea—of the spread inland between  
 it and the spinal river, Of the great pastoral area, athletic and feminine, Of all sloping down there where the fresh free- 
 giver, the mother, the Mississippi flows—and  
 Westward still;   [ begin page 183 ]ppp.01500.191.jpg Of future men and women there—of happiness in  
 those high plateaus, ranging three thousand  
 miles, warm and cold, Of cities yet unsurveyed and unsuspected, (as I am  
 also, and as it must be,) Of the new and good names—of the strong develop- 
 ments—of the inalienable homesteads, Of a free original life there—of simple diet, and  
 clean and sweet blood, Of litheness, majestic faces, clear eyes, and perfect  
 physique there, Of immense spiritual results, future years, inland, 
 spread there each side of the Anahuacs, Of these Leaves well-understood there, (being made  
 for that area,) Of the native scorn of grossness and gain there, (O it lurks in me night and day—What is gain, 
 after all, to savageness and freedom?)

12.

¹TO oratists—to male or female, Vocalism, breath, measure, concentration, determina- 
 tion, and the divine power to use words. ²Are you eligible? Are you full-lung'd and limber-lipp'd from long trial?  
 from vigorous practice? from physique?   [ begin page 184 ]ppp.01500.192.jpg Do you move in these broad lands as broad as they? Remembering inland America, the high plateaus,  
 stretching long? Remembering Kanada—Remembering what edges  
 the vast round edge of the Mexican Sea? Come duly to the divine power to use words? ³For only at last, after many years—after chastity,  
 friendship, procreation, prudence, and nakedness, After treading ground and breasting river and lake, After a loosened throat—after absorbing eras, tem- 
 peraments, races—after knowledge, freedom,  
 crimes, After complete faith—after clarifyings, elevations,  
 and removing obstructions, After these, and more, it is just possible there comes  
 to a man, a woman, the divine power to use  
 words. ⁴Then toward that man or that woman swiftly hasten  
 all—None refuse, all attend, Armies, ships, antiquities, the dead, libraries, paint- 
 ings, machines, cities, hate, despair, amity, pain,  
 theft, murder, aspiration, form in close ranks, They debouch as they are wanted to march obediently  
 through the mouth of that man, or that woman. ⁵O now I see arise orators fit for inland America, And I see it is as slow to become an orator as to  
 become a man, And I see that power is folded in a great vocalism. ⁶Of a great vocalism, when you hear it, the merciless  
 light shall pour, and the storm rage around,   [ begin page 185 ]ppp.01500.193.jpg Every flash shall be a revelation, an insult, The glaring flame turned on depths, on heights, on  
 suns, on stars, On the interior and exterior of man or woman, On the laws of Nature—on passive materials, On what you called death—and what to you there- 
 fore was death, As far as there can be death.

13.

¹LAWS for Creations, For strong artists and leaders—for fresh broods of  
 teachers, and perfect literats for America, For diverse savans, and coming musicians. ²There shall be no subject but it shall be treated with  
 reference to the ensemble of the world, and the  
 compact truth of the world—And no coward or  
 copyist shall be allowed; There shall be no subject too pronounced—All works  
 shall illustrate the divine law of indirections; There they stand—I see them already, each poised  
 and in its place, Statements, models, censuses, poems, dictionaries,  
 biographies, essays, theories—How complete!  
 How relative and interfused! No one super- 
 sedes another; They do not seem to me like the old specimens, 16*   [ begin page 186 ]ppp.01500.194.jpg They seem to me like Nature at last, (America has  
 given birth to them, and I have also;) They seem to me at last as perfect as the animals,  
 and as the rocks and weeds—fitted to them, Fitted to the sky, to float with floating clouds—to  
 rustle among the trees with rustling leaves, To stretch with stretched and level waters, where  
 ships silently sail in the distance. ³What do you suppose Creation is? What do you suppose will satisfy the Soul, except to  
 walk free and own no superior? What do you suppose I have intimated to you in a  
 hundred ways, but that man or woman is as good  
 as God? And that there is no God any more divine than  
 Yourself? And that that is what the oldest and newest myths  
 finally mean? And that you or any one must approach Creations  
 through such laws?

14.

¹POETS to come! Not to-day is to justify me, and Democracy, and  
 what we are for, But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental,  
 greater than before known, You must justify me.   [ begin page 187 ]ppp.01500.195.jpg ²Indeed, if it were not for you, what would I be? What is the little I have done, except to arouse you? ³I depend on being realized, long hence, where the  
 broad fat prairies spread, and thence to Oregon  
 and California inclusive, I expect that the Texan and the Arizonian, ages  
 hence, will understand me, I expect that the future Carolinian and Georgian will  
 understand me and love me, I expect that Kanadians, a hundred, and perhaps  
 many hundred years from now, in winter, in the  
 splendor of the snow and woods, or on the icy  
 lakes, will take me with them, and permanently  
 enjoy themselves with me. ⁴Of to-day I know I am momentary, untouched—I  
 am the bard of the future, I but write one or two indicative words for the future, I but advance a moment, only to wheel and hurry  
 back in the darkness. ⁵I am a man who, sauntering along, without fully  
 stopping, turns a casual look upon you, and then  
 averts his face, Leaving it to you to prove and define it, Expecting the main things from you.   [ begin page 188 ]ppp.01500.196.jpg

15.

WHO has gone farthest? For I swear I will go  
 farther; And who has been just? For I would be the most  
 just person of the earth; And who most cautious? For I would be more  
 cautious; And who has been happiest? O I think it is I! I  
 think no one was ever happier than I; And who has lavished all? For I lavish constantly  
 the best I have; And who has been firmest? For I would be firmer; And who proudest? For I think I have reason to be  
 the proudest son alive—for I am the son of the  
 brawny and tall-topt city; And who has been bold and true? For I would be  
 the boldest and truest being of the universe; And who benevolent? For I would show more be- 
 nevolence than all the rest; And who has projected beautiful words through the  
 longest time? By God! I will outvie him! I  
 will say such words, they shall stretch through  
 longer time! And who has received the love of the most friends? 
 For I know what it is to receive the passionate  
 love of many friends; And to whom has been given the sweetest from  
 women, and paid them in kind? For I will  
 take the like sweets and pay them in kind;   [ begin page 189 ]ppp.01500.197.jpg And who possesses a perfect and enamoured body? 
 For I do not believe any one possesses a more  
 perfect or enamoured body than mine; And who thinks the amplest thoughts? For I will  
 surround those thoughts; And who has made hymns fit for the earth? For I  
 am mad with devouring extacy to make joyous  
 hymns for the whole earth!

16.

THEY shall arise in the States—mediums shall, They shall report Nature, laws, physiology, and  
 happiness, They shall illustrate Democracy and the kosmos, They shall be alimentive, amative, perceptive, They shall be complete women and men—their pose  
 brawny and supple, their drink water, their blood  
 clean and clear, They shall enjoy materialism and the sight of prod- 
 ucts—they shall enjoy the sight of the beef, 
 lumber, bread-stuffs, of Chicago, the great city, They shall train themselves to go in public to become  
 oratists, (orators and oratresses,) Strong and sweet shall their tongues be—poems and  
 materials of poems shall come from their lives— 
 they shall be makers and finders, Of them, and of their works, shall emerge divine  
 conveyers, to convey gospels,   [ begin page 190 ]ppp.01500.198.jpg Characters, events, retrospections, shall be conveyed  
 in gospels—Trees, animals, waters, shall be  
 conveyed, Death, the future, the invisible faith, shall all be  
 conveyed.

17.

¹NOW we start hence, I with the rest, on our jour- 
 neys through The States, We willing learners of all, teachers of all, and lovers  
 of all. ²I have watched the seasons dispensing themselves,  
 and passing on, And I have said, Why should not a man or woman  
 do as much as the seasons, and effuse as much? ³We dwell a while in every city and town, We pass through Kanada, the north-east, the vast  
 valley of the Mississippi, and the Southern  
 States, We confer on equal terms with each of The States, We make trial of ourselves, and invite men and  
 women to hear, We say to ourselves, Remember, fear not, be candid,  
 promulge the body and the Soul, Promulge real things—Never forget the equality of  
 humankind, and never forget immortality;   [ begin page 191 ]ppp.01500.199.jpg Dwell a while, and pass on—Be copious, temperate,  
 chaste, magnetic, And what you effuse may then return as the seasons  
 return, And may be just as much as the seasons.

18.

ME imperturbe, Me standing at ease in Nature, Master of all, or mistress of all—aplomb in the  
 midst of irrational things, Imbued as they—passive, receptive, silent as they, Finding my occupation, poverty, notoriety, foibles, 
 crimes, less important than I thought; Me private, or public, or menial, or solitary—all  
 these subordinate, (I am eternally equal with  
 the best—I am not subordinate;) Me toward the Mexican Sea, or in the Mannahatta, 
 or the Tennessee, or far north, or inland, A river-man, or a man of the woods, or of any farm- 
 life of These States, or of the coast, or the lakes, 
 or Kanada, Me, wherever my life is to be lived, O to be self-bal- 
 anced for contingencies! O to confront night, storms, hunger, ridicule, acci- 
 dents, rebuffs, as the trees and animals do.   [ begin page 192 ]ppp.01500.200.jpg

19.

I WAS looking a long while for the history of the  
 past for myself, and for these Chants—and now  
 I have found it, It is not in those paged fables in the libraries, (them  
 I neither accept nor reject,) It is no more in the legends than in all else, It is in the present—it is this earth to-day, It is in Democracy—in this America—the old world  
 also, It is the life of one man or one woman to-day, the  
 average man of to-day; It is languages, social customs, literatures, arts, It is the broad show of artificial things, ships, ma- 
 chinery, politics, creeds, modern improvements, 
 and the interchanges of nations, All for the average man of to-day.

20.

¹AMERICAN mouth-songs! Those of mechanics—each one singing, his, as it  
 should be, blithe and strong, The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank  
 or beam,   [ begin page 193 ]ppp.01500.201.jpg The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work,  
 or leaves off work, The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat  
 —the deck-hand singing on the steamboat deck, The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench—the  
 hatter singing as he stands, The wood-cutter's song—the ploughboy's, on his way  
 in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at  
 sundown; The delicious singing of the mother—or of the  
 young wife at work—or of the girl sewing or  
 washing—Each singing what belongs to her,  
 and to none else, The day what belongs to the day—At night, the  
 party, of young fellows, robust, friendly, clean-  
 blooded, singing with melodious voices, melo- 
 dious thoughts. ²Come! some of you! still be flooding The States  
 with hundreds and thousands of mouth-songs,  
 fit for The States only.

21.

¹As I walk, solitary, unattended, Around me I hear that eclat of the world—politics,  
 produce, The announcements of recognized things—science, The approved growth of cities, and the spread of  
 inventions. 17   [ begin page 194 ]ppp.01500.202.jpg ²I see the ships, (they will last a few years,) The vast factories with their foremen and workmen, And hear the indorsement of all, and do not object  
 to it. ³But we too announce solid things, Science, ships, politics, cities, factories, are not noth- 
 ing—they serve, They stand for realities—all is as it should be. ⁴Then my realities, What else is so real as mine? Libertad, and the divine average—Freedom to every  
 slave on the face of the earth, The rapt promises and lumine of seers—the spir- 
 itual world—these centuries-lasting songs, And our visions, the visions of poets, the most solid  
 announcements of any. ⁵For we support all, After the rest is done and gone, we remain, There is no final reliance but upon us, Democracy rests finally upon us, (I, my brethren,  
 begin it,) And our visions sweep through eternity.   [ begin page 195 ]ppp.01500.203.jpg

LEAVES OF GRASS.

1.

¹ELEMENTAL drifts! O I wish I could impress others as you and the waves  
 have just been impressing me. ²As I ebbed with an ebb of the ocean of life, As I wended the shores I know, As I walked where the sea-ripples wash you, Pau- 
 manok, Where they rustle up, hoarse and sibilant, Where the fierce old mother endlessly cries for her  
 castaways, I, musing, late in the autumn day, gazing off south- 
 ward, Alone, held by the eternal self of me that threatens  
 to get the better of me, and stifle me, Was seized by the spirit that trails in the lines  
 underfoot, In the rim, the sediment, that stands for all the water  
 and all the land of the globe.   [ begin page 196 ]ppp.01500.204.jpg ³Fascinated, my eyes, reverting from the south,  
 dropped, to follow those slender winrows, Chaff, straw, splinters of wood, weeds, and the sea-  
 gluten, Scum, scales from shining rocks, leaves of salt-  
 lettuce, left by the tide; Miles walking, the sound of breaking waves the other  
 side of me, Paumanok, there and then, as I thought the old  
 thought of likenesses, These you presented to me, you fish-shaped island, As I wended the shores I know, As I walked with that eternal self of me, seeking  
 types. ⁴As I wend the shores I know not, As I listen to the dirge, the voices of men and women  
 wrecked, As I inhale the impalpable breezes that set in  
 upon me, As the ocean so mysterious rolls toward me closer  
 and closer, At once I find, the least thing that belongs to me, or  
 that I see or touch, I know not; I, too, but signify, at the utmost, a little washed-up  
 drift, A few sands and dead leaves to gather, Gather, and merge myself as part of the sands and  
 drift. ⁵O baffled, balked, Bent to the very earth, here preceding what follows, Oppressed with myself that I have dared to open my  
 mouth,   [ begin page 197 ]ppp.01500.205.jpg Aware now, that, amid all the blab whose echoes  
 recoil upon me, I have not once had the least  
 idea who or what I am, But that before all my insolent poems the real ME  
 still stands untouched, untold, altogether un- 
 reached, Withdrawn far, mocking me with mock-congrat- 
 ulatory signs and bows, With peals of distant ironical laughter at every word  
 I have written or shall write, Striking me with insults till I fall helpless upon the  
 sand. ⁶O I perceive I have not understood anything—not a  
 single object—and that no man ever can. ⁷I perceive Nature here, in sight of the sea, is taking  
 advantage of me, to dart upon me, and sting me, Because I was assuming so much, And because I have dared to open my mouth to sing  
 at all. ⁸You oceans both! You tangible land! Nature! Be not too rough with me—I submit—I close with  
 you, These little shreds shall, indeed, stand for all. ⁹You friable shore, with trails of debris! You fish-shaped island! I take what is underfoot; What is yours is mine, my father. ¹⁰I too Paumanok, I too have bubbled up, floated the measureless float,  
 and been washed on your shores; 17*   [ begin page 198 ]ppp.01500.206.jpg I too am but a trail of drift and debris, I too leave little wrecks upon you, you fish-shaped  
 island. ¹¹I throw myself upon your breast, my father, I cling to you so that you cannot unloose me, I hold you so firm, till you answer me something. ¹²Kiss me, my father, Touch me with your lips, as I touch those I love, Breathe to me, while I hold you close, the secret of  
 the wondrous murmuring I envy, For I fear I shall become crazed, if I cannot emulate  
 it, and utter myself as well as it. ¹³Sea-raff! Crook-tongued waves! O, I will yet sing, some day, what you have said  
 to me. ¹⁴Ebb, ocean of life, (the flow will return,) Cease not your moaning, you fierce old mother, Endlessly cry for your castaways—but fear not,  
 deny not me, Rustle not up so hoarse and angry against my feet, as  
 I touch you, or gather from you. ¹⁵I mean tenderly by you, I gather for myself, and for this phantom, looking  
 down where we lead, and following me and  
 mine. ¹⁶Me and mine! We, loose winrows, little corpses, Froth, snowy white, and bubbles,   [ begin page 199 ]ppp.01500.207.jpg (See! from my dead lips the ooze exuding at last! See—the prismatic colors, glistening and rolling!) Tufts of straw, sands, fragments, Buoyed hither from many moods, one contradicting  
 another, From the storm, the long calm, the darkness, the  
 swell, Musing, pondering, a breath, a briny tear, a dab of  
 liquid or soil, Up just as much out of fathomless workings fer- 
 mented and thrown, A limp blossom or two, torn, just as much over waves  
 floating, drifted at random, Just as much for us that sobbing dirge of Nature, Just as much, whence we come, that blare of the  
 cloud-trumpets; We, capricious, brought hither, we know not whence,  
 spread out before You, up there, walking or  
 sitting, Whoever you are—we too lie in drifts at your feet.

2.

¹GREAT are the myths—I too delight in them, Great are Adam and Eve—I too look back and  
 accept them, Great the risen and fallen nations, and their poets,  
 women, sages, inventors, rulers, warriors, and  
 priests.   [ begin page 200 ]ppp.01500.208.jpg ²Great is Liberty! great is Equality! I am their fol- 
 lower, Helmsmen of nations, choose your craft! where you  
 sail, I sail, Yours is the muscle of life or death—yours is the  
 perfect science—in you I have absolute faith. ³Great is To-day, and beautiful, It is good to live in this age—there never was any  
 better. ⁴Great are the plunges, throes, triumphs, downfalls of  
 Democracy, Great the reformers, with their lapses and screams, Great the daring and venture of sailors, on new ex- 
 plorations. ⁵Great are Yourself and Myself, We are just as good and bad as the oldest and young- 
 est or any, What the best and worst did, we could do, What they felt, do not we feel it in ourselves? What they wished, do we not wish the same? ⁶Great is Youth—equally great is Old Age—great  
 are the Day and Night, Great is Wealth—great is Poverty—great is Ex- 
 pression—great is Silence. ⁷Youth, large, lusty, loving—Youth, full of grace,  
 force, fascination, Do you know that Old Age may come after you, with  
 equal grace, force, fascination?   [ begin page 201 ]ppp.01500.209.jpg ⁸Day, full-blown and splendid—Day of the immense  
 sun, action, ambition, laughter, The Night follows close, with millions of suns, and  
 sleep, and restoring darkness. ⁹Wealth with the flush hand, fine clothes, hospitality, But then the Soul's wealth, which is candor, knowl- 
 edge, pride, enfolding love; (Who goes for men and women showing Poverty  
 richer than wealth?) ¹⁰Expression of speech! in what is written or said, for- 
 get not that Silence is also expressive, That anguish as hot as the hottest, and contempt as  
 cold as the coldest, may be without words, That the true adoration is likewise without words,  
 and without kneeling. ¹¹Great is the greatest Nation—the nation of clusters  
 of equal nations. ¹²Great is the Earth, and the way it became what it is; Do you imagine it is stopped at this? the increase  
 abandoned? Understand then that it goes as far onward from  
 this, as this is from the times when it lay in  
 covering waters and gases, before man had ap- 
 peared. ¹³Great is the quality of Truth in man, The quality of truth in man supports itself through  
 all changes,   [ begin page 202 ]ppp.01500.210.jpg It is inevitably in the man—he and it are in love,  
 and never leave each other. ¹⁴The truth in man is no dictum, it is vital as eye- 
 sight, If there be any Soul, there is truth—if there be man  
 or woman, there is truth—if there be physical  
 or moral, there is truth, If there be equilibrium or volition, there is truth—  
 if there be things at all upon the earth, there  
 is truth. ¹⁵O truth of the earth! O truth of things! I am de- 
 termined to press my way toward you, Sound your voice! I scale mountains, or dive in the  
 sea after you. ¹⁶Great is Language—it is the mightiest of the sci- 
 ences, It is the fulness, color, form, diversity of the earth,  
 and of men and women, and of all qualities  
 and processes, It is greater than wealth—it is greater than build- 
 ings, ships, religions, paintings, music. ¹⁷Great is the English speech—what speech is so  
 great as the English? Great is the English brood—what brood has so vast  
 a destiny as the English? It is the mother of the brood that must rule the earth  
 with the new rule, The new rule shall rule as the Soul rules, and as the  
 love, justice, equality in the Soul, rule.   [ begin page 203 ]ppp.01500.211.jpg ¹⁸Great is Law—great are the old few landmarks of  
 the law, They are the same in all times, and shall not be  
 disturbed. ¹⁹Great are commerce, newspapers, books, free-trade,  
 railroads, steamers, international mails, tele- 
 graphs, exchanges. ²⁰Great is Justice! Justice is not settled by legislators and laws—it is in  
 the Soul, It cannot be varied by statues, any more than love,  
 pride, the attraction of gravity, can, It is immutable—it does not depend on majorities—  
 majorities or what not come at last before the  
 same passionless and exact tribunal. ²¹For justice are the grand natural lawyers and perfect  
 judges—it is in their Souls, It is well assorted—they have not studied for noth- 
 ing—the great includes the less, They rule on the highest grounds—they oversee all  
 eras, states, administrations. ²²The perfect judge fears nothing—he could go front  
 to front before God, Before the perfect judge all shall stand back—life  
 and death shall stand back—heaven and hell  
 shall stand back. ²³Great is Goodness! I do not know what it is, any more than I know what  
 health is—but I know it is great.   [ begin page 204 ]ppp.01500.212.jpg ²⁴Great is Wickedness—I find I often admire it, just as  
 much as I admire goodness, Do you call that a paradox? It certainly is a paradox. ²⁵The eternal equilibrium of things is great, and the  
 eternal overthrow of things is great, And there is another paradox. ²⁶Great is Life, real and mystical, wherever and whoever, Great is Death—sure as Life holds all parts together,  
 Death holds all parts together, Death has just as much purport as Life has, Do you enjoy what Life confers? you shall enjoy what  
 Death confers, I do not understand the realities of Death, but I know  
 they are great, I do not understand the least reality of Life—how then  
 can I understand the realities of Death?

3.

¹A YOUNG man came to me with a message from his  
 brother, How should the young man know the whether and  
 when of his brother? Tell him to send me the signs. ²And I stood before the young man face to face, and  
 took his right hand in my left hand, and his left  
 hand in my right hand,   [ begin page 205 ]ppp.01500.213.jpg And I answered for his brother, and for men, and I  
 answered for THE POET, and sent these signs. ³Him all wait for—him all yield up to—his word is  
 decisive and final, Him they accept, in him lave, in him perceive them- 
 selves, as amid light, Him they immerse, and he immerses them. ⁴Beautiful women, the haughtiest nations, laws, the  
 landscape, people, animals, The profound earth and its attributes, and the unquiet  
 ocean, All enjoyments and properties, and money, and what- 
 ever money will buy, The best farms—others toiling and planting, and he  
 unavoidably reaps, The noblest and costliest cities—others grading and  
 building, and he domiciles there, Nothing for any one, but what is for him—near and  
 far are for him, The ships in the offing—the perpetual shows and  
 marches on land, are for him, if they are for any  
 body. ⁵He puts things in their attitudes, He puts to-day out of himself, with plasticity and  
 love, He places his own city, times, reminiscences, parents,  
 brothers and sisters, associations, employment,  
 politics, so that the rest never shame them after- 
 ward, nor assume to command them. 18   [ begin page 206 ]ppp.01500.214.jpg ⁶He is the answerer, What can be answered he answers—and what cannot  
 be answered, he shows how it cannot be answered. ⁷A man is a summons and challenge; (It is vain to skulk—Do you hear that mocking and  
 laughter? Do you hear the ironical echoes?) ⁸Books, friendships, philosophers, priests, action, pleas- 
 ure, pride, beat up and down, seeking to give  
 satisfaction, He indicates the satisfaction, and indicates them that  
 beat up and down also. ⁹Whichever the sex, whatever the season or place, he  
 may go freshly and gently and safely, by day or  
 by night, He has the pass-key of hearts—to him the response  
 of the prying of hands on the knobs. ¹⁰His welcome is universal—the flow of beauty is not  
 more welcome or universal than he is, The person he favors by day or sleeps with at night is  
 blessed. ¹¹Every existence has its idiom—everything has an  
 idiom and tongue, He resolves all tongues into his own, and bestows it  
 upon men, and any man translates, and any man  
 translates himself also, One part does not counteract another part—he is the  
 joiner—he sees how they join. ¹²He says indifferently and alike, How are you, friend?  
 to the President at his levee,   [ begin page 207 ]ppp.01500.215.jpg And he says, Good-day, my brother! to Cudge that  
 hoes in the sugar-field, And both understand him, and know that his speech  
 is right. ¹³He walks with perfect ease in the capitol, He walks among the Congress, and one representative  
 says to another, Here is our equal, appearing and  
  new. ¹⁴Then the mechanics take him for a mechanic, And the soldiers suppose him to be a captain, and the  
 sailors that he has followed the sea, And the authors take him for an author, and the  
 artists for an artist, And the laborers perceive he could labor with them  
 and love them, No matter what the work is, that he is the one to fol- 
 low it, or has followed it, No matter what the nation, that he might find his  
 brothers and sisters there. ¹⁵The English believe he comes of their English stock, A Jew to the Jew he seems—a Russ to the Russ—  
 usual and near, removed from none. ¹⁶Whoever he looks at in the traveller's coffee-house  
 claims him, The Italian or Frenchman is sure, and the German is  
 sure, and the Spaniard is sure, and the island  
 Cuban is sure; The engineer, the deck-hand on the great lakes, or on  
 the Mississippi, or St. Lawrence, or Sacramento,  
 or Hudson, or Paumanok Sound, claims him.   [ begin page 208 ]ppp.01500.216.jpg ¹⁷The gentleman of perfect blood acknowledges his per- 
 fect blood, The insulter, the prostitute, the angry person, the  
 beggar, see themselves in the ways of him—he  
 strangely transmutes them, They are not vile any more—they hardly know them- 
 selves, they are so grown. ¹⁸Do you think it would be good to be the writer of  
 melodious verses? Well, it would be good to be the writer of melodious  
 verses; But what are verses beyond the flowing character you  
 could have? or beyond beautiful manners and  
 behavior? Or beyond one manly or affectionate deed of an ap- 
 prentice-boy? or old woman? or man that has  
 been in prison, or is likely to be in prison?

4.

¹SOMETHING startles me where I thought I was safest, I withdraw from the still woods I loved, I will not go now on the pastures to walk, I will not strip the clothes from my body to meet my  
 lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other  
 flesh, to renew me.   [ begin page 209 ]ppp.01500.217.jpg ²O Earth! O how can the ground of you not sicken? How can you be alive, you growths of spring? How can you furnish health, you blood of herbs, roots,  
 orchards, grain? Are they not continually putting distempered corpses  
 in you? Is not every continent worked over and over with sour  
 dead? ³Where have you disposed of those carcasses of the  
 drunkards and gluttons of so many generations? Where have you drawn off all the foul liquid and meat? I do not see any of it upon you to-day—or perhaps  
 I am deceived, I will run a furrow with my plough—I will press  
 my spade through the sod, and turn it up un- 
 derneath, I am sure I shall expose some of the foul meat. ⁴Behold! This is the compost of billions of premature corpses, Perhaps every mite has once formed part of a sick  
 person—Yet behold! The grass covers the prairies, The bean bursts noiselessly through the mould in the  
 garden, The delicate spear of the onion pierces upward, The apple-buds cluster together on the apple-branches, The resurrection of the wheat appears with pale visage  
 out of its graves, The tinge awakes over the willow-tree and the mul- 
 berry-tree, 18*   [ begin page 210 ]ppp.01500.218.jpg The he-birds carol mornings and evenings, while the  
 she-birds sit on their nests, The young of poultry break through the hatched eggs, The new-born of animals appear—the calf is dropt  
 from the cow, the colt from the mare, Out of its little hill faithfully rise the potato's dark  
 green leaves, Out of its hill rises the yellow maize-stalk; The summer growth is innocent and disdainful above  
 all those strata of sour dead. ⁵What chemistry! That the winds are really not infectious, That this is no cheat, this transparent green-wash of  
 the sea, which is so amorous after me, That it is safe to allow it to lick my naked body all  
 over with its tongues, That it will not endanger me with the fevers that  
 have deposited themselves in it, That all is clean, forever and forever, That the cool drink from the well tastes so good, That blackberries are so flavorous and juicy, That the fruits of the apple-orchard, and of the  
 orange-orchard—that melons, grapes, peaches,  
 plums, will none of them poison me, That when I recline on the grass I do not catch any  
 disease, Though probably every spear of grass rises out of  
 what was once a catching disease. ⁶Now I am terrified at the Earth! it is that calm and  
 patient, It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions,   [ begin page 211 ]ppp.01500.219.jpg It turns harmless and stainless on its axis, with such  
 endless successions of diseased corpses, It distils such exquisite winds out of such infused  
 fetor, It renews, with such unwitting looks, its prodigal,  
 annual, sumptuous crops, It gives such divine materials to men, and accepts  
 such leavings from them at last.

5.

¹ALL day I have walked the city, and talked with my  
 friends, and thought of prudence, Of time, space, reality—of such as these, and abreast  
 with them, prudence. ²After all, the last explanation remains to be made  
 about prudence, Little and large alike drop quietly aside from the  
 prudence that suits immortality. ³The Soul is of itself, All verges to it—all has reference to what ensues, All that a person does, says, thinks, is of conse- 
 quence, Not a move can a man or woman make, that affects  
 him or her in a day, month, any part of the  
 direct life-time, or the hour of death, but the  
 same affects him or her onward afterward  
 through the indirect life-time.   [ begin page 212 ]ppp.01500.220.jpg ⁴The indirect is more than the direct, The spirit receives from the body just as much as it  
 gives to the body, if not more. ⁵Not one word or deed—not venereal sore, discolor- 
 ation, privacy of the onanist, putridity of gluttons  
 or rum-drinkers, peculation, cunning, betrayal,  
 murder, seduction, prostitution, but has results  
 beyond death, as really as before death. ⁶Charity and personal force are the only investments  
 worth anything. ⁷No specification is necessary—all that a male or  
 female does, that is vigorous, benevolent, clean,  
 is so much profit to him or her, in the unshakable  
 order of the universe, and through the whole  
 scope of it forever. ⁸Who has been wise, receives interest, Savage, felon, President, judge, farmer, sailor, me- 
 chanic, young, old, it is the same, The interest will come round—all will come round. ⁹Singly, wholly, to affect now, affected their time, will  
 forever affect, all of the past, and all of the  
 present, and all of the future, All the brave actions of war and peace, All help given to relatives, strangers, the poor, old,  
 sorrowful, young children, widows, the sick, and  
 to shunned persons, All furtherance of fugitives, and of the escape of  
 slaves,   [ begin page 213 ]ppp.01500.221.jpg All self-denial that stood steady and aloof on wrecks,  
 and saw others fill the seats of the boats, All offering of substance or life for the good old cause,  
 or for a friend's sake, or opinion's sake, All pains of enthusiasts, scoffed at by their neighbors, All the limitless sweet love and precious suffering of  
 mothers, All honest men baffled in strifes recorded or unre- 
 corded, All the grandeur and good of ancient nations whose  
 fragments we inherit, All the good of the hundreds of ancient nations un- 
 known to us by name, date, location, All that was ever manfully begun, whether it suc- 
 ceeded or no, All suggestions of the divine mind of man, or the  
 divinity of his mouth, or the shaping of his great  
 hands; All that is well thought or said this day on any part  
 of the globe—or on any of the wandering stars,  
 or on any of the fixed stars, by those there as we  
 are here, All that is henceforth to be thought or done by you,  
 whoever you are, or by any one, These inure, have inured, shall inure, to the identities  
 from which they sprang, or shall spring. ¹⁰Did you guess anything lived only its moment? The world does not so exist—no parts palpable or  
 impalpable so exist, No consummation exists without being from some  
 long previous consummation—and that from  
 some other,   [ begin page 214 ]ppp.01500.222.jpg Without the farthest conceivable one coming a bit  
 nearer the beginning than any. ¹¹Whatever satisfies Souls is true, Prudence entirely satisfies the craving and glut of  
 Souls, Itself finally satisfies the Soul, The Soul has that measureless pride which revolts  
 from every lesson but its own. ¹²Now I give you an inkling, Now I breathe the word of the prudence that walks  
 abreast with time, space, reality, That answers the pride which refuses every lesson but  
 its own. ¹³What is prudence, is indivisible, Declines to separate one part of life from every part, Divides not the righteous from the unrighteous, or  
 the living from the dead, Matches every thought or act by its correlative, Knows no possible forgiveness or deputed atonement, Knows that the young man who composedly perilled  
 his life and lost it, has done exceeding well for  
 himself, without doubt, That he who never perilled his life, but retains it to  
 old age in riches and ease, has probably achieved  
 nothing for himself worth mentioning; Knows that only the person has really learned, who  
 has learned to prefer results, Who favors body and Soul the same, Who perceives the indirect assuredly following the  
 direct, Who in his spirit in any emergency whatever neither  
 hurries or avoids death.   [ begin page 215 ]ppp.01500.223.jpg

6.

¹PERFECT sanity shows the master among philosophs, Time, always without flaw, indicates itself in parts, What always indicates the poet, is the crowd of the  
 pleasant company of singers, and their words, The words of the singers are the hours or minutes of  
 the light or dark—but the words of the maker  
 of poems are the general light and dark, The maker of poems settles justice, reality, immor- 
 tality, His insight and power encircle things and the human  
 race, He is the glory and extract, thus far, of things, and  
 of the human race. ²The singers do not beget—only THE POET begets, The singers are welcomed, understood, appear often  
 enough—but rare has the day been, likewise the  
 spot, of the birth of the maker of poems, Not every century, or every five centuries, has con- 
 tained such a day, for all its names. ³The singers of successive hours of centuries may have  
 ostensible names, but the name of each of them  
 is one of the singers, The name of each is, a heart-singer, eye-singer, hymn-  
 singer, law-singer, ear-singer, head-singer, sweet-  
 singer, wise-singer, droll-singer, thrift-singer, sea-  
 singer, wit-singer, echo-singer, parlor-singer, love-  
 singer, passion-singer, mystic-singer, fable-singer,  
 item-singer, weeping-singer, or something else.   [ begin page 216 ]ppp.01500.224.jpg ⁴All this time, and at all times, wait the words of  
 poems; The greatness of sons is the exuding of the greatness  
 of mothers and fathers, The words of poems are the tuft and final applause of  
 science. ⁵Divine instinct, breadth of vision, the law of reason,  
 health, rudeness of body, withdrawnness, gayety,  
 sun-tan, air-sweetness—such are some of the  
 words of poems. ⁶The sailor and traveller underlie the maker of poems, The builder, geometer, mathematician, astronomer,  
 melodist, chemist, anatomist, spiritualist, lan- 
 guage-searcher, geologist, phrenologist, artist—  
 all these underlie the maker of poems. ⁷The words of poems give you more than poems, They give you to form for yourself poems, religions,  
 politics, war, peace, behavior, histories, essays,  
 romances, and everything else, They balance ranks, colors, races, creeds, and the  
 sexes, They do not seek beauty—they are sought, Forever touching them, or close upon them, follows  
 beauty, longing, fain, love-sick. ⁸They prepare for death—yet are they not the finish,  
 but rather the outset, They bring none to his or her terminus, or to be con- 
 tent and full;   [ begin page 217 ]ppp.01500.225.jpg Whom they take, they take into space, to behold the  
 birth of stars, to learn one of the meanings, To launch off with absolute faith—to sweep through  
 the ceaseless rings, and never be quiet again.

7.

I NEED no assurances—I am a man who is pre- 
 occupied, of his own Soul; I do not doubt that whatever I know at a given time, 
 there waits for me more, which I do not know; I do not doubt that from under the feet, and beside  
 the hands and face I am cognizant of, are now  
 looking faces I am not cognizant of—calm and  
 actual faces; I do not doubt but the majesty and beauty of the  
 world are latent in any iota of the world; I do not doubt there are realizations I have no idea of, 
 waiting for me through time, and through the  
 universes—also upon this earth; I do not doubt I am limitless, and that the universes  
 are limitless—in vain I try to think how  
 limitless; I do not doubt that the orbs, and the systems of orbs, 
 play their swift sports through the air on purpose  
 —and that I shall one day be eligible to do as  
 much as they, and more than they; I do not doubt there is far more in trivialities, insects, 
 vulgar persons, slaves, dwarfs, weeds, rejected  
 refuse, than I have supposed; 19   [ begin page 218 ]ppp.01500.226.jpg I do not doubt there is more in myself than I have  
 supposed—and more in all men and women— 
 and more in my poems than I have supposed; I do not doubt that temporary affairs keep on and on, 
 millions of years; I do not doubt interiors have their interiors, and  
 exteriors have their exteriors—and that the  
 eye-sight has another eye-sight, and the hearing  
 another hearing, and the voice another voice; I do not doubt that the passionately-wept deaths of  
 young men are provided for—and that the  
 deaths of young women, and the deaths of little  
 children, are provided for; I do not doubt that wrecks at sea, no matter what the  
 horrors of them—no matter whose wife, child, 
 husband, father, lover, has gone down—are pro- 
 vided for, to the minutest point; I do not doubt that shallowness, meanness, malig- 
 nance, are provided for; I do not doubt that cities, you, America, the re- 
 mainder of the earth, politics, freedom, degra- 
 dations, are carefully provided for; I do not doubt that whatever can possibly happen, 
 any where, at any time, is provided for, in the  
 inherences of things.   [ begin page 219 ]ppp.01500.227.jpg

8.

¹WHAT shall I give? and which are my miracles? ²Realism is mine—my miracles—Take freely, Take without end—I offer them to you wherever  
 your feet can carry you, or your eyes reach. ³Why! who makes much of a miracle? As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the  
 sky, Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the  
 edge of the water, Or stand under trees in the woods, 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, 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, Or the wonderfulness of the sun-down—or of stars  
 shining so quiet and bright, Or the exquisite, delicate, thin curve of the new-moon  
 in spring; Or whether I go among those I like best, and that like  
 me best—mechanics, boatmen, farmers,   [ begin page 220 ]ppp.01500.228.jpg Or among the savans—or to the soiree—or to the  
 opera, Or stand a long while looking at the movements of  
 machinery, Or behold children at their sports, 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, The whole referring—yet each distinct and in its  
 place. ⁴To me, every hour of the light and dark is miracle, Every inch of space is a miracle, Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread  
 with the same, Every cubic foot of the interior swarms with the same; 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. ⁵To me the sea is a continual miracle, The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the  
 waves—the ships, with men in them, What stranger miracles are there?   [ begin page 221 ]ppp.01500.229.jpg

9.

¹THERE was a child went forth every day, And the first object he looked upon and received  
 with wonder, pity, love, or dread, that object he  
 became, And that object became part of him for the day, or a  
 certain part of the day, or for many years, or  
 stretching cycles of years. ²The early lilacs became part of this child, And grass, and white and red morning-glories, and  
 white and red clover, and the song of the phœbe-  
 bird, And the Third Month lambs, and the sow's pink-faint  
 litter, and the mare's foal, and the cow's calf, And the noisy brood of the barn-yard, or by the mire  
 of the pond-side, And the fish suspending themselves so curiously below  
 there—and the beautiful curious liquid, And the water-plants with their graceful flat heads—  
 all became part of him. ³The field-sprouts of Fourth Month and Fifth Month  
 became part of him, Winter-grain sprouts, and those of the light-yellow  
 corn, and the esculent roots of the garden, And the apple-trees covered with blossoms, and the  
 fruit afterward, and wood-berries, and the com- 
 monest weeds by the road; 19*   [ begin page 222 ]ppp.01500.230.jpg And the old drunkard staggering home from the out- 
 house of the tavern, whence he had lately risen, And the school-mistress that passed on her way to the  
 school, And the friendly boys that passed—and the quarrel- 
 some boys, And the tidy and fresh-cheeked girls—and the bare- 
 foot negro boy and girl, And all the changes of city and country, wherever he  
 went. ⁴His own parents, He that had fathered him, and she that conceived him  
 in her womb, and birthed him, They gave this child more of themselves than that, They gave him afterward every day—they and of  
 them became part of him. ⁵The mother at home, quietly placing the dishes on the  
 supper-table, The mother with mild words—clean her cap and  
 gown, a wholesome odor falling off her person  
 and clothes as she walks by; The father, strong, self-sufficient, manly, mean, an- 
 gered, unjust, The blow, the quick loud word, the tight bargain, the  
 crafty lure, The family usages, the language, the company, the  
 furniture—the yearning and swelling heart, Affection that will not be gainsayed—the sense of  
 what is real—the thought if, after all, it should  
 prove unreal, The doubts of day-time and the doubts of night-time—  
 the curious whether and how,   [ begin page 223 ]ppp.01500.231.jpg Whether that which appears so is so, or is it all flashes  
 and specks? Men and women crowding fast in the streets—if they  
 are not flashes and specks, what are they? The streets themselves, and the façades of houses, and  
 goods in the windows, Vehicles, teams, the heavy-planked wharves—the  
 huge crossing at the ferries, The village on the highland, seen from afar at sunset—  
 the river between, Shadows, aureola and mist, light falling on roofs and  
 gables of white or brown, three miles off, The schooner near by, sleepily dropping down the  
 tide—the little boat slack-towed astern, The hurrying tumbling waves, quick-broken crests,  
 slapping, The strata of colored clouds, the long bar of maroon-  
 tint, away solitary by itself—the spread of purity  
 it lies motionless in, The horizon's edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance  
 of salt-marsh and shore-mud; These became part of that child who went forth every  
 day, and who now goes, and will always go forth  
 every day, And these become part of him or her that peruses  
 them here.   [ begin page 224 ]ppp.01500.232.jpg

10.

¹IT is ended—I dally no more, After to-day I inure myself to run, leap, swim,  
 wrestle, fight, To stand the cold or heat—to take good aim with a  
 gun—to sail a boat—to manage horses—to  
 beget superb children, To speak readily and clearly—to feel at home among  
 common people, And to hold my own in terrible positions, on land  
 and sea. ²Not for an embroiderer, (There will always be plenty of embroiderers—I  
 welcome them also;) But for the fibre of things, and for inherent men and  
 women. ³Not to chisel ornaments, But to chisel with free stroke the heads and limbs of  
 plenteous Supreme Gods, that The States may  
 realize them, walking and talking. ⁴Let me have my own way, Let others promulge the laws—I will make no ac- 
 count of the laws, Let others praise eminent men and hold up peace—  
 I hold up agitation and conflict, I praise no eminent man—I rebuke to his face the  
 one that was thought most worthy.   [ begin page 225 ]ppp.01500.233.jpg ⁵(Who are you? you mean devil! And what are you  
 secretly guilty of, all your life? Will you turn aside all your life? Will you grub  
 and chatter all your life?) ⁶(And who are you—blabbing by rote, years, pages,  
 languages, reminiscences, Unwitting to-day that you do not know how to speak  
 a single word?) ⁷Let others finish specimens—I never finish specimens, I shower them by exhaustless laws, as nature does,  
 fresh and modern continually. ⁸I give nothing as duties, What others give as duties, I give as living impulses; (Shall I give the heart's action as a duty?) ⁹Let others dispose of questions—I dispose of noth- 
 ing—I arouse unanswerable questions; Who are they I see and touch, and what about them? What about these likes of myself, that draw me so  
 close by tender directions and indirections? ¹⁰Let others deny the evil their enemies charge against  
 them—but how can I the like? Nothing ever has been, or ever can be, charged against  
 me, half as bad as the evil I really am; I call to the world to distrust the accounts of my  
 friends, but listen to my enemies—as I my- 
 self do; I charge you, too, forever, reject those who would  
 expound me—for I cannot expound myself,   [ begin page 226 ]ppp.01500.234.jpg I charge that there be no theory or school founded out  
 of me, I charge you to leave all free, as I have left all free. ¹¹After me, vista! O, I see life is not short, but immeasurably long, I henceforth tread the world, chaste, temperate, an  
 early riser, a gymnast, a steady grower, Every hour the semen of centuries—and still of cen- 
 turies. ¹²I will follow up these continual lessons of the air,  
 water, earth, I perceive I have no time to lose.

11.

¹WHO learns my lesson complete? Boss, journeyman, apprentice—churchman and athe- 
 ist, The stupid and the wise thinker—parents and off- 
 spring—merchant, clerk, porter, and customer, Editor, author, artist, and schoolboy—Draw nigh and  
 commence; It is no lesson — it lets down the bars to a good  
 lesson, And that to another, and every one to another still. ²The great laws take and effuse without argument, I am of the same style, for I am their friend,   [ begin page 227 ]ppp.01500.235.jpg I love them quits and quits—I do not halt and make  
 salaams. ³I lie abstracted, and hear beautiful tales of things,  
 and the reasons of things, They are so beautiful, I nudge myself to listen. ⁴I cannot say to any person what I hear—I cannot  
 say it to myself—it is very wonderful. ⁵It is no small matter, this round and delicious globe,  
 moving so exactly in its orbit forever and ever,  
 without one jolt, or the untruth of a single  
 second, I do not think it was made in six days, nor in ten  
 thousand years, nor ten billions of years, Nor planned and built one thing after another, as an  
 architect plans and builds a house. ⁶I do not think seventy years is the time of a man or  
 woman, Nor that seventy millions of years is the time of a  
 man or woman, Nor that years will ever stop the existence of me, or  
 any one else. ⁷Is it wonderful that I should be immortal? as every  
 one is immortal, I know it is wonderful—but my eye-sight is equally  
 wonderful, and how I was conceived in my moth- 
 er's womb is equally wonderful;   [ begin page 228 ]ppp.01500.236.jpg And how I was not palpable once, but am now—and  
 was born on the last day of Fifth Month, in the  
 Year 43 of America, And passed from a babe, in the creeping trance of  
 three summers and three winters, to articulate  
 and walk—All this is equally wonderful. ⁸And that I grew six feet high, and that I have become  
 a man thirty-six years old in the Year 79 of  
 America—and that I am here anyhow—are all  
 equally wonderful. ⁹And that my Soul embraces you this hour, and we af- 
 fect each other without ever seeing each other,  
 and never perhaps to see each other, is every bit  
 as wonderful. ¹⁰And that I can think such thoughts as these, is just as  
 wonderful, And that I can remind you, and you think them and  
 know them to be true, is just as wonderful. ¹¹And that the moon spins round the earth, and on with  
 the earth, is equally wonderful, And that they balance themselves with the sun and  
 stars, is equally wonderful. ¹²Come! I should like to hear you tell me what there  
 is in yourself that is not just as wonderful, And I should like to hear the name of anything be- 
 tween First Day morning and Seventh Day night  
 that is not just as wonderful.   [ begin page 229 ]ppp.01500.237.jpg

12.

¹THIS night I am happy; As I walk the beach where the old mother sways to  
 and fro, singing her savage and husky song, As I watch the stars shining—I think a thought of  
 the clef of the universes, and of the future. ²What can the future bring me more than I have? Do you suppose I wish to enjoy life in other spheres? ³I say distinctly I comprehend no better sphere than  
 this earth, I comprehend no better life than the life of my body. ⁴I do not know what follows the death of my body, But I know well that whatever it is, it is best for me, And I know well that whatever is really Me shall live  
 just as much as before. ⁵I am not uneasy but I shall have good housing to  
 myself, But this is my first—how can I like the rest any  
 better? Here I grew up—the studs and rafters are grown  
 parts of me. ⁶I am not uneasy but I am to be beloved by young and  
 old men, and to love them the same, 20   [ begin page 230 ]ppp.01500.238.jpg I suppose the pink nipples of the breasts of women  
 with whom I shall sleep will touch the side of my  
 face the same, But this is the nipple of a breast of my mother, always  
 near and always divine to me, her true child and  
 son, whatever comes. ⁷I suppose I am to be eligible to visit the stars, in my  
 time, I suppose I shall have myriads of new experiences—  
 and that the experience of this earth will prove  
 only one out of myriads; But I believe my body and my Soul already indicate  
 those experiences, And I believe I shall find nothing in the stars more  
 majestic and beautiful than I have already found  
 on the earth, And I believe I have this night a clew through the  
 universes, And I believe I have this night thought a thought of  
 the clef of eternity. ⁸A VAST SIMILITUDE interlocks all, All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns,  
 moons, planets, comets, asteroids, All the substances of the same, and all that is spiritual,  
 upon the same, All distances of place, however wide, All distances of time—all inanimate forms, All Souls—all living bodies, though they be ever so  
 different, or in different worlds, All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes—  
 the fishes, the brutes,   [ begin page 231 ]ppp.01500.239.jpg All men and women—me also, All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages, All identities that have existed, or may exist, on this  
 globe or any globe, All lives and deaths—all of past, present, future, This vast similitude spans them, and always has  
 spanned, and shall forever span them, and  
 compactly hold them.

13.

¹O BITTER sprig! Confession sprig! In the bouquet I give you place also—I bind you in, Proceeding no further till, humbled publicly, I give fair warning, once for all. ²I own that I have been sly, thievish, mean, a prevari- 
 cator, greedy, derelict, And I own that I remain so yet. ³What foul thought but I think it—or have in me the  
 stuff out of which it is thought? What in darkness in bed at night, alone or with a  
 companion? ⁴You felons on trials in courts, You convicts in prison cells—you sentenced assas- 
 sins, chained and handcuffed with iron,   [ begin page 232 ]ppp.01500.240.jpg Who am I, that I am not on trial, or in prison? Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are  
 not chained with iron, or my ankles with iron? ⁵You prostitutes flaunting over the trottoirs, or obscene  
 in your rooms, Who am I, that I should call you more obscene than  
 myself? ⁶O culpable! O traitor! O I acknowledge—I exposé! (O admirers! praise not me! compliment not me! you  
 make me wince, I see what you do not—I know what you do not;) Inside these breast-bones I lie smutch'd and choked, Beneath this face that appears so impassive, hell's  
 tides continually run, Lusts and wickedness are acceptable to me, I walk with delinquents with passionate love, I feel I am of them—I belong to those convicts and  
 prostitutes myself, And henceforth I will not deny them—for how can I  
 deny myself?   [ begin page 233 ]ppp.01500.241.jpg

14.

UNFOLDED out of the folds of the woman, man comes  
 unfolded, as is always to come unfolded, Unfolded only out of the superbest woman of the  
 earth, is to come the superbest man of the earth, Unfolded out of the friendliest woman, is to come  
 the friendliest man, Unfolded only out of the perfect body of a woman, 
 can a man be formed of perfect body, Unfolded only out of the inimitable poem of the  
 woman, can come the poems of man—only  
 thence have my poems come, Unfolded out of the strong and arrogant woman I  
 love, only thence can appear the strong and  
 arrogant man I love, Unfolded by brawny embraces from the well-muscled  
 woman I love, only thence come the brawny  
 embraces of the man, Unfolded out of the folds of the woman's brain, come  
 all the folds of the man's brain, duly obedient, Unfolded out of the justice of the woman, all justice  
 is unfolded, Unfolded out of the sympathy of the woman is all  
 sympathy; A man is a great thing upon the earth, and through  
 eternity—but every jot of the greatness of man  
 is unfolded out of woman, First the man is shaped in the woman, he can then be  
 shaped in himself. 20*   [ begin page 234 ]ppp.01500.242.jpg

15.

¹NIGHT on the Prairies; I walk by myself—I stand and look at the stars,  
 which I think now I never realized before. ²Now I absorb immortality and peace, I admire death and test propositions. ³How plenteous! How spiritual! How resumé! The same Old Man and Soul—the same old aspi- 
 rations, and the same content. ⁴I was thinking the day most splendid, till I saw what  
 the not-day exhibited, I was thinking this globe enough, till there tumbled  
 upon me myriads of other globes. ⁵Now while the great thoughts of space and eternity  
 fill me, I will measure myself by them, And now, touched with the lives of other globes,  
 arrived as far along as those of the earth, Or waiting to arrive, or passed on farther than those  
 of the earth, I henceforth no more ignore them than I ignore my  
 own life, Or the lives on the earth arrived as far as mine, or  
 waiting to arrive. ⁶O how plainly I see now that life cannot exhibit all to  
 me—as the day cannot, O I see that I am to wait for what will be exhibited  
 by death.   [ begin page 235 ]ppp.01500.243.jpg

16.

SEA-WATER, and all living below it, Forests at the bottom of the sea—the branches and  
 leaves, Sea-lettuce, vast lichens, strange flowers and seeds— 
 the thick tangle, the openings, and the pink turf, Different colors, pale gray and green, purple, white, 
 and gold—the play of light through the water, Dumb swimmers there among the rocks—coral, 
 gluten, grass, rushes—and the aliment of the  
 swimmers, Sluggish existences grazing there, suspended, or  
 slowly crawling close to the bottom, The sperm-whale at the surface, blowing air and  
 spray, or disporting with his flukes, The leaden-eyed shark, the walrus, the turtle, the  
 hairy sea-leopard, and the sting-ray; Passions there—wars, pursuits, tribes—sight in  
 those ocean-depths—breathing that thick-breath- 
 ing air, as so many do, The change thence to the sight here, and to the subtle  
 air breathed by beings like us, who walk this  
 sphere; The change onward from ours to that of beings who  
 walk other spheres.   [ begin page 236 ]ppp.01500.244.jpg

17.

I SIT and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, 
 and upon all oppression and shame, I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at  
 anguish with themselves, remorseful after deeds  
 done; I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, 
 dying, neglected, gaunt, desperate, I see the wife misused by her husband—I see the  
 treacherous seducer of the young woman, I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, 
 attempted to be hid—I see these sights on the  
 earth, I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny—I  
 see martyrs and prisoners, I observe a famine at sea—I observe the sailors  
 casting lots who shall be killed, to preserve the  
 lives of the rest, I observe the slights and degradations cast by arro- 
 gant persons upon laborers, the poor, and upon  
 negroes, and the like; All these—All the meanness and agony without end, 
 I sitting, look out upon, See, hear, and am silent.   [ begin page 237 ]ppp.01500.245.jpg

18.

¹O ME, man of slack faith so long! Standing aloof—denying portions so long; Me with mole's eyes, unrisen to buoyancy and vision  
 —unfree, Only aware to-day of compact, all-diffused truth, Discovering to-day there is no lie, or form of lie,  
 and can be none, but grows just as inevitably  
 upon itself as the truth does upon itself, Or as any law of the earth, or any natural production  
 of the earth does. ²(This is curious, and may not be realized immedi- 
 ately—But it must be realized; I feel in myself that I represent falsehoods equally  
 with the rest, And that the universe does.) ³Where has failed a perfect return, indifferent of lies  
 or the truth? Is it upon the ground, or in water or fire? or in the  
 spirit of man? or in the meat and blood? ⁴Meditating among liars, and retreating sternly into  
 myself, I see that there are really no liars or  
 lies after all, And that nothing fails its perfect return—And that  
 what are called lies are perfect returns,   [ begin page 238 ]ppp.01500.246.jpg And that each thing exactly represents itself, and  
 what has preceded it, And that the truth includes all, and is compact, just  
 as much as space is compact, And that there is no flaw or vacuum in the amount  
 of the truth—but that all is truth without ex- 
 ception, And henceforth I will go celebrate anything I see  
 or am, And sing and laugh, and deny nothing.

19.

FORMS, qualities, lives, humanity, language, thoughts, The ones known, and the ones unknown—the ones  
 on the stars, The stars themselves, some shaped, others unshaped, Wonders as of those countries—the soil, trees, cities, 
 inhabitants, whatever they may be, Splendid suns, the moons and rings, the countless  
 combinations and effects, Such-like, and as good as such-like, visible here or  
 anywhere, stand provided for in a handful of  
 space, which I extend my arm and half enclose  
 with my hand, That contains the start of each and all—the virtue, 
 the germs of all; That is the theory as of origins.   [ begin page 239 ]ppp.01500.247.jpg

20.

SO far, and so far, and on toward the end, Singing what is sung in this book, from the irresisti- 
 ble impulses of me; But whether I continue beyond this book, to ma- 
 turity, Whether I shall dart forth the true rays, the ones  
 that wait unfired, (Did you think the sun was shining its brightest? No—it has not yet fully risen ;) Whether I shall complete what is here started, Whether I shall attain my own height, to justify these, 
 yet unfinished, Whether I shall make THE POEM OF THE NEW WORLD, 
 transcending all others—depends, rich persons, 
 upon you, Depends, whoever you are now filling the current Presidentiad, upon you, Upon you, Governor, Mayor, Congressman, And you, contemporary America.   [ begin page 240 ]ppp.01500.248.jpg

21.

¹NOW I make a leaf of Voices—for I have found noth- 
 ing mightier than they are, And I have found that no word spoken, but is beau- 
 tiful, in its place. ²O what is it in me that makes me tremble so at  
 voices? ³Surely, whoever speaks to me in the right voice, him  
 or her I shall follow, as the waters follow the  
 moon, silently, with fluid steps, any where around  
 the globe. ⁴Now I believe that all waits for the right voices; Where is the practised and perfect organ? Where is  
 the developed Soul? For I see every word uttered thence has deeper,  
 sweeter, new sounds, impossible on less terms. ⁵I see brains and lips closed—I see tympans and tem- 
 ples unstruck, Until that comes which has the quality to strike and  
 to unclose, Until that comes which has the quality to bring forth  
 what lies slumbering, forever ready, in all words.   [ begin page 241 ]ppp.01500.249.jpg

22.

¹WHAT am I, after all, but a child, pleased with the  
 sound of my own name? repeating it over and  
 over, I cannot tell why it affects me so much, when I hear  
 it from women's voices, and from men's voices,  
 or from my own voice, I stand apart to hear—it never tires me. ²To you, your name also, Did you think there was nothing but two or three  
 pronunciations in the sound of your name?

23.

LOCATIONS and times—what is it in me that meets  
 them all, whenever and wherever, and makes me  
 at home? Forms, colors, densities, odors—what is it in me that  
 corresponds with them? What is the relation between me and them? 21   [ begin page 242 ]ppp.01500.250.jpg

24.

LIFT me close to your face till I whisper, What you are holding is in reality no book, nor part  
 of a book, It is a man, flushed and full-blooded—it is I—So  
  long! We must separate—Here! take from my lips this  
 kiss, Whoever you are, I give it especially to you; So long—and I hope we shall meet again.   [ begin page 243 ]ppp.01500.251.jpg

Salut au Monde!

¹O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman! Such gliding wonders! Such sights and sounds! Such joined unended links, each hooked to the next! Each answering all—each sharing the earth with all. ²What widens within you, Walt Whitman? What waves and soils exuding? What climes? What persons and lands are here? Who are the infants? Some playing, some slum- 
 bering? Who are the girls? Who are the married women? Who are the three old men going slowly with their  
 arms about each others' necks? What rivers are these? What forests and fruits are  
 these? What are the mountains called that rise so high in  
 the mists? What myriads of dwellings are they, filled with  
 dwellers? ³Within me latitude widens, longitude lengthens, Asia, Africa, Europe, are to the east—America is  
 provided for in the west,   [ begin page 244 ]ppp.01500.252.jpg Banding the bulge of the earth winds the hot equator, Curiously north and south turn the axis-ends; Within me is the longest day—the sun wheels in  
 slanting rings—it does not set for months, Stretched in due time within me the midnight sun  
 just rises above the horizon, and sinks again, Within me zones, seas, cataracts, plains, volcanoes, 
 groups, Oceanica, Australasia, Polynesia, and the great West  
 Indian islands. ⁴What do you hear, Walt Whitman? ⁵I hear the workman singing, and the farmer's wife  
 singing, I hear in the distance the sounds of children, and of  
 animals early in the day, I hear quick rifle-cracks from the riflemen of East  
 Tennessee and Kentucky, hunting on hills, I hear emulous shouts of Australians, pursuing the  
 wild horse, I hear the Spanish dance, with castanets, in the chest- 
 nut shade, to the rebeck and guitar, I hear continual echoes from the Thames, I hear fierce French liberty songs, I hear of the Italian boat-sculler the musical recitative  
 of old poems, I hear the Virginia plantation chorus of negroes, of  
 a harvest night, in the glare of pine knots, I hear the strong baritone of the 'long-shore-men of  
 Manhatta, I hear the stevedores unlading the cargoes, and  
 singing,   [ begin page 245 ]ppp.01500.253.jpg I hear the screams of the water-fowl of solitary north- 
 west lakes, I hear the rustling pattering of locusts, as they strike  
 the grain and grass with the showers of their  
 terrible clouds, I hear the Coptic refrain, toward sundown, pensively  
 falling on the breast of the black venerable vast  
 mother, the Nile, I hear the bugles of raft-tenders on the streams of  
 Kanada, I hear the chirp of the Mexican muleteer, and the  
 bells of the mule, I hear the Arab muezzin, calling from the top of the  
 mosque, I hear Christian priests at the altars of their churches  
 —I hear the responsive base and soprano, I hear the wail of utter despair of the white-haired  
 Irish grand-parents, when they learn the death  
 of their grand-son, I hear the cry of the Cossack, and the sailor's voice, 
 putting to sea at Okotsk, I hear the wheeze of the slave-coffle, as the slaves  
 march on—as the husky gangs pass on by twos  
 and threes, fastened together with wrist-chains  
 and ankle-chains, I hear the entreaties of women tied up for punishment  
 —I hear the sibilant whisk of thongs through  
 the air; I hear the Hebrew reading his records and psalms, I hear the rhythmic myths of the Greeks, and the  
 strong legends of the Romans, I hear the tale of the divine life and bloody death  
 of the beautiful God, the Christ, 21*   [ begin page 246 ]ppp.01500.254.jpg I hear the Hindoo teaching his favorite pupil the  
 loves, wars, adages, transmitted safely to this  
 day from poets who wrote three thousand years  
 ago. ⁶What do you see, Walt Whitman? Who are they who salute, and that one after another  
 salute you? ⁷I see a great round wonder rolling through the air, I see diminute farms, hamlets, ruins, grave-yards, jails, 
 factories, palaces, hovels, huts of barbarians, tents  
 of nomads, upon the surface, I see the shaded part on one side, where the sleepers  
 are sleeping—and the sun-lit part on the other  
 side, I see the curious silent change of the light and shade, I see distant lands, as real and near to the inhabitants  
 of them, as my land is to me. ⁸I see plenteous waters, I see mountain peaks—I see the sierras of Andes and  
 Alleghanies, where they range, I see plainly the Himmalehs, Chian Shahs, Altays, 
 Gauts, I see the Rocky Mountains, and the Peak of Winds, I see the Styrian Alps, and the Karnac Alps, I see the Pyrenees, Balks, Carpathians—and to the  
 north the Dofrafields, and off at sea Mount Hecla, I see Vesuvius and Etna—I see the Anahuacs, I see the Mountains of the Moon, and the Snow Moun- 
 tains, and the Red Mountains of Madagascar, I see the Vermont hills, and the long string of Cor- 
 dilleras;   [ begin page 247 ]ppp.01500.255.jpg I see the vast deserts of Western America, I see the Libyan, Arabian, and Asiatic deserts; I see huge dreadful Arctic and Antarctic icebergs, I see the superior oceans and the inferior ones—the  
 Atlantic and Pacific, the sea of Mexico, the Bra- 
 zilian sea, and the sea of Peru, The Japan waters, those of Hindostan, the China Sea, 
 and the Gulf of Guinea, The spread of the Baltic, Caspian, Bothnia, the British  
 shores, and the Bay of Biscay, The clear-sunned Mediterranean, and from one to an- 
 other of its islands, The inland fresh-tasted seas of North America, The White Sea, and the sea around Greenland. ⁹I behold the mariners of the world, Some are in storms—some in the night, with the  
 watch on the look-out, Some drifting helplessly—some with contagious dis- 
 eases. ¹⁰I behold the steam-ships of the world, Some double the Cape of Storms—some Cape Verde  
 —others Cape Guardafui, Bon, or Bajadore, Others Dondra Head—others pass the Straits of Sun- 
 da—others Cape Lopatka—others Behring's  
 Straits, Others Cape Horn—others the Gulf of Mexico, or  
 along Cuba or Hayti—others Hudson's Bay or  
 Baffin's Bay, Others pass the Straits of Dover—others enter the  
 Wash—others the Firth of Solway—others round  
 Cape Clear—others the Land's End,   [ begin page 248 ]ppp.01500.256.jpg Others traverse the Zuyder Zee, or the Scheld, Others add to the exits and entrances at Sandy Hook, Others to the comers and goers at Gibraltar, or the  
 Dardanelles, Others sternly push their way through the northern  
 winter-packs, Others descend or ascend the Obi or the Lena, Others the Niger or the Congo—others the Indus, 
 the Burampooter and Cambodia, Others wait at the wharves of Manahatta, steamed up, 
 ready to start, Wait, swift and swarthy, in the ports of Australia, Wait at Liverpool, Glasgow, Dublin, Marseilles, Lis- 
 bon, Naples, Hamburg, Bremen, Bourdeaux, the  
 Hague, Copenhagen, Wait at Valparaiso, Rio Janeiro, Panama, Wait at their moorings at Boston, Philadelphia, Balti- 
 more, Charleston, New Orleans, Galveston, San  
 Francisco. ¹¹I see the tracks of the rail-roads of the earth, I see them welding State to State, city to city, through  
 North America; I see them in Great Britain, I see them in Europe, I see them in Asia and in Africa. ¹²I see the electric telegraphs of the earth, I see the filaments of the news of the wars, deaths, 
 losses, gains, passions, of my race. ¹³I see the long river-stripes of the earth, I see where the Mississippi flows—I see where the. 
 Columbia flows,   [ begin page 249 ]ppp.01500.257.jpg I see the Great River, and the Falls of Niagara, I see the Amazon and the Paraguay, I see the four great rivers of China, the Amour, the  
 Yellow River, the Yiang-tse, and the Pearl; I see where the Seine flows, and where the Loire, the  
 Rhone, and the Guadalquiver flow, I see the windings of the Volga, the Dnieper, the  
 Oder, I see the Tuscan going down the Arno, and the Vene- 
 tian along the Po, I see the Greek seaman sailing out of Egina bay. ¹⁴I see the site of the old empire of Assyria, and that  
 of Persia, and that of India, I see the falling of the Ganges over the high rim of  
 Saukara. ¹⁵I see the place of the idea of the Deity incarnated by  
 avatars in human forms, I see the spots of the successions of priests on the earth  
 —oracles, sacrificers, brahmins, sabians, lamas, 
 monks, muftis, exhorters; I see where druids walked the groves of Mona—I see  
 the mistletoe and vervain, I see the temples of the deaths of the bodies of Gods— 
 I see the old signifiers. ¹⁶I see Christ once more eating the bread of his last sup- 
 per, in the midst of youths and old persons, I see where the strong divine young man, the Hercules, 
 toiled faithfully and long, and then died, I see the place of the innocent rich life and hapless  
 fate of the beautiful nocturnal son, the full-limbed  
 Bacchus,   [ begin page 250 ]ppp.01500.258.jpg I see Kneph, blooming, dressed in blue, with the crown  
 of feathers on his head, I see Hermes, unsuspected, dying, well-beloved, saying  
 to the people, Do not weep for me, This is not my true country, I have lived banished from  
  my true country—I now go back there, I return to the celestial sphere, where every one goes  
  in his turn. ¹⁷I see the battle-fields of the earth—grass grows upon  
 them, and blossoms and corn, I see the tracks of ancient and modern expeditions. ¹⁸I see the nameless masonries, venerable messages of  
 the unknown events, heroes, records of the earth. ¹⁹I see the places of the sagas, I see pine-trees and fir-trees torn by northern blasts, I see granite boulders and cliffs—I see green meadows  
 and lakes, I see the burial-cairns of Scandinavian warriors, I see them raised high with stones, by the marge of  
 restless oceans, that the dead men's spirits, when  
 they wearied of their quiet graves, might rise up  
 through the mounds, and gaze on the tossing  
 billows, and be refreshed by storms, immensity, 
 liberty, action. ²⁰I see the steppes of Asia, I see the tumuli of Mongolia—I see the tents of Kal- 
 mucks and Baskirs, I see the nomadic tribes, with herds of oxen and cows, I see the table-lands notched with ravines—I see the  
 jungles and deserts,   [ begin page 251 ]ppp.01500.259.jpg I see the camel, the wild steed, the bustard, the fat- 
 tailed sheep, the antelope, and the burrowing  
 wolf. ²¹I see the high-lands of Abyssinia, I see flocks of goats feeding, and see the fig-tree, 
 tamarind, date, And see fields of teff-wheat, and see the places of  
 verdure and gold. ²²I see the Brazilian vaquero, I see the Bolivian ascending Mount Sorata, I see the Wacho crossing the plains—I see the  
 incomparable rider of horses with his lasso on  
 his arm, I see over the pampas the pursuit of wild cattle for  
 their hides. ²³I see little and large sea-dots, some inhabited, some  
 uninhabited; I see two boats with nets, lying off the shore of Pau- 
 manok, quite still, I see ten fishermen waiting—they discover now a  
 thick school of mossbonkers—they drop the  
 joined seine-ends in the water, The boats separate—they diverge and row off, each  
 on its rounding course to the beach, enclosing  
 the mossbonkers, The net is drawn in by a windlass by those who stop  
 ashore, Some of the fishermen lounge in the boats—others  
 stand negligently ankle-deep in the water, poised  
 on strong legs,   [ begin page 252 ]ppp.01500.260.jpg The boats are partly drawn up—the water slaps  
 against them, On the sand, in heaps and winrows, well out from the  
 water, lie the green-backed spotted mossbonkers. ²⁴I see the despondent red man in the west, lingering  
 about the banks of Moingo, and about Lake  
 Pepin, He has heard the quail and beheld the honey-bee, and  
 sadly prepared to depart. ²⁵I see the regions of snow and ice, I see the sharp-eyed Samoiede and the Finn, I see the seal-seeker in his boat, poising his lance, I see the Siberian on his slight-built sledge, drawn by  
 dogs, I see the porpoise-hunters—I see the whale-crews of  
 the South Pacific and the North Atlantic, I see the cliffs, glaciers, torrents, valleys, of Switzer- 
 land—I mark the long winters, and the  
 isolation. ²⁶I see the cities of the earth, and make myself at ran- 
 dom a part of them, I am a real Parisian, I am a habitan of Vienna, St. Petersburg, Berlin, 
 Constantinople, I am of Adelaide, Sidney, Melbourne, I am of London, Manchester, Bristol, Edinburgh, 
 Limerick, I am of Madrid, Cadiz, Barcelona, Oporto, Lyons, 
 Brussels, Berne, Frankfort, Stuttgart, Turin, 
 Florence,   [ begin page 253 ]ppp.01500.261.jpg I belong in Moscow, Cracow, Warsaw—or northward  
 in Christiania or Stockholm—or in Siberian  
 Irkutsk—or in some street in Iceland; I descend upon all those cities, and rise from them  
 again. ²⁷I see vapors exhaling from unexplored countries, I see the savage types, the bow and arrow, the  
 poisoned splint, the fetish, and the obi. ²⁸I see African and Asiatic towns, I see Algiers, Tripoli, Derne, Mogadore, Timbuctoo, 
 Monrovia, I see the swarms of Pekin, Canton, Benares, Delhi, 
 Calcutta, Yedo, I see the Kruman in his hut, and the Dahoman and  
 Ashantee-man in their huts, I see the Turk smoking opium in Aleppo, I see the picturesque crowds at the fairs of Khiva, and  
 those of Herat, I see Teheran—I see Muscat and Medina, and the  
 intervening sands—I see the caravans toiling  
 onward; I see Egypt and the Egyptians—I see the pyramids  
 and obelisks, I look on chiselled histories, songs, philosophies, cut  
 in slabs of sand-stone, or on granite blocks, I see at Memphis mummy-pits, containing mummies, 
 embalmed, swathed in linen cloth, lying there  
 many centuries, I look on the fall'n Theban, the large-ball'd eyes, the  
 side-drooping neck, the hands folded across the  
 breast. 22   [ begin page 254 ]ppp.01500.262.jpg ²⁹I see the menials of the earth, laboring, I see the prisoners in the prisons, I see the defective human bodies of the earth, I see the blind, the deaf and dumb, idiots, hunch- 
 backs, lunatics, I see the pirates, thieves, betrayers, murderers, slave- 
 makers of the earth, I see the helpless infants, and the helpless old men  
 and women. ³⁰I see male and female everywhere, I see the serene brotherhood of philosophs, I see the constructiveness of my race, I see the results of the perseverance and industry of  
 my race, I see ranks, colors, barbarisms, civilizations—I go  
 among them—I mix indiscriminately, And I salute all the inhabitants of the earth. ³¹You, where you are! You daughter or son of England! You of the mighty Slavic tribes and empires! you  
 Russ in Russia! You dim-descended, black, divine-souled African, 
 large, fine-headed, nobly-formed, superbly des- 
 tined, on equal terms with me! You Norwegian! Swede! Dane! Icelander! you  
 Prussian! You Spaniard of Spain! you Portuguese! You Frenchwoman and Frenchman of France! You Belge! you liberty-lover of the Netherlands! You sturdy Austrian! you Lombard! Hun! Bohe- 
 mian! farmer of Styria!   [ begin page 255 ]ppp.01500.263.jpg You neighbor of the Danube! You working-man of the Rhine, the Elbe, or the  
 Weser! you working-woman too! You Sardinian! you Bavarian! you Swabian! Saxon! 
 Wallachian! Bulgarian! You citizen of Prague! you Roman! Neapolitan! 
 Greek! You lithe matador in the arena at Seville! You mountaineer living lawlessly on the Taurus or  
 Caucasus! You Bokh horse-herd, watching your mares and stal- 
 lions feeding! You beautiful-bodied Persian, at full speed in the  
 saddle, shooting arrows to the mark! You Chinaman and Chinawoman of China! you Tar- 
 tar of Tartary! You women of the earth subordinated at your tasks! You Jew journeying in your old age through every  
 risk, to stand once on Syrian ground! You other Jews waiting in all lands for your Messiah! You thoughtful Armenian, pondering by some stream  
 of the Euphrates! you peering amid the ruins of  
 Nineveh! you ascending Mount Ararat! You foot-worn pilgrim welcoming the far-away sparkle  
 of the minarets of Mecca! You sheiks along the stretch from Suez to Babel- 
 mandel, ruling your families and tribes! You olive-grower tending your fruit on fields of Naz- 
 areth, Damascus, or Lake Tiberias! You Thibet trader on the wide inland, or bargaining  
 in the shops of Lassa! You Japanese man or woman! you liver in Madagas- 
 car, Ceylon, Sumatra, Borneo!   [ begin page 256 ]ppp.01500.264.jpg All you continentals of Asia, Africa, Europe, Aus- 
 tralia, indifferent of place! All you on the numberless islands of the archipelagoes  
 of the sea! And you of centuries hence, when you listen to me! And you, each and everywhere, whom I specify not, 
 but include just the same! Health to you! Good will to you all—from me and  
 America sent, For we acknowledge you all and each. ³¹Each of us inevitable, Each of us limitless—each of us with his or her  
 right upon the earth, Each of us allowed the eternal purport of the earth, Each of us here as divinely as any is here. ³²You Hottentot with clicking palate! You woolly-haired hordes! you white or black owners  
 of slaves! You owned persons, dropping sweat-drops or blood- 
 drops! You human forms with the fathomless ever-impressive  
 countenances of brutes! You poor koboo whom the meanest of the rest look  
 down upon, for all your glimmering language  
 and spirituality! You low expiring aborigines of the hills of Utah, 
 Oregon, California! You dwarfed Kamtschatkan, Greenlander, Lapp! You Austral negro, naked, red, sooty, with protrusive  
 lip, grovelling, seeking your food! You Caffre, Berber, Soudanese!   [ begin page 257 ]ppp.01500.265.jpg You haggard, uncouth, untutored Bedowee! You plague-swarms in Madras, Nankin, Kaubul, 
 Cairo! You bather bathing in the Ganges! You benighted roamer of Amazonia! you Patagonian! 
 you Fegee-man! You peon of Mexico! you Russian serf! you slave of  
 Carolina, Texas, Tennessee! I do not prefer others so very much before you either, I do not say one word against you, away back there, 
 where you stand, (You will come forward in due time to my side.) ³³My spirit has passed in compassion and determination  
 around the whole earth, I have looked for equals and lovers, and found them  
 ready for me in all lands; I think some divine rapport has equalized me with  
 them. ³⁴O vapors! I think I have risen with you, and moved  
 away to distant continents, and fallen down  
 there, for reasons, I think I have blown with you, O winds, O waters, I have fingered every shore with you. ³⁵I have run through what any river or strait of the  
 globe has run through, I have taken my stand on the bases of peninsulas, and  
 on the highest embedded rocks, to cry thence. ³⁶ Salut au Monde! What cities the light or warmth penetrates, I pen- 
 etrate those cities myself, 22*   [ begin page 258 ]ppp.01500.266.jpg All islands to which birds wing their way, I wing my  
 way myself. ³⁷Toward all, I raise high the perpendicular hand—I make the  
 signal, To remain after me in sight forever, For all the haunts and homes of men.   [ begin page 259 ]ppp.01500.267.jpg

POEM OF JOYS.

¹O TO make a most jubilant poem! O full of music! Full of manhood, womanhood, 
 infancy! O full of common employments! Full of grain and  
 trees. ²O for the voices of animals! O for the swiftness and  
 balance of fishes! O for the dropping of rain-drops in a poem! O for the sunshine and motion of waves in a poem. ³O to be on the sea! the wind, the wide waters  
 around; O to sail in a ship under full sail at sea. ⁴O the joy of my spirit! It is uncaged! It darts like  
 lightning! It is not enough to have this globe, or a certain time  
 —I will have thousands of globes, and all time. ⁵O the engineer's joys! To go with a locomotive!   [ begin page 260 ]ppp.01500.268.jpg To hear the hiss of steam—the merry shriek—the  
 steam-whistle—the laughing locomotive! To push with resistless way, and speed off in the  
 distance. ⁶O the horseman's and horsewoman's joys! The saddle—the gallop—the pressure upon the seat  
 —the cool gurgling by the ears and hair. ⁷O the fireman's joys! I hear the alarm at dead of night, I hear bells—shouts!—I pass the crowd—I run! The sight of the flames maddens me with pleasure. ⁸O the joy of the strong-brawned fighter, towering  
 in the arena, in perfect condition, conscious of  
 power, thirsting to meet his opponent. ⁹O the joy of that vast elemental sympathy which only  
 the human Soul is capable of generating and  
 emitting in steady and limitless floods. ¹⁰O the mother's joys! The watching—the endurance—the precious love— 
 the anguish—the patiently yielded life. ¹¹O the joy of increase, growth, recuperation, The joy of soothing and pacifying—the joy of  
 concord and harmony. ¹²O to go back to the place where I was born! O to hear the birds sing once more! To ramble about the house and barn, and over the  
 fields, once more,   [ begin page 261 ]ppp.01500.269.jpg And through the orchard and along the old lanes  
 once more. ¹³O male and female! O the presence of women! (I swear, nothing is more  
 exquisite to me than the presence of women;) O for the girl, my mate! O for happiness with my  
 mate! O the young man as I pass! O I am sick after the  
 friendship of him who, I fear, is indifferent  
 to me. ¹⁴O the streets of cities! The flitting faces—the expressions, eyes, feet, cos- 
 tumes! O I cannot tell how welcome they are  
 to me; O of men—of women toward me as I pass—The  
 memory of only one look—the boy lingering  
 and waiting. ¹⁵O to have been brought up on bays, lagoons, creeks, 
 or along the coast! O to continue and be employed there all my life! O the briny and damp smell—the shore—the salt  
 weeds exposed at low water, The work of fishermen—the work of the eel-fisher  
 and clam-fisher. ¹⁶O it is I! I come with my clam-rake and spade! I come with  
 my eel-spear; Is the tide out? I join the group of clam-diggers on  
 the flats,   [ begin page 262 ]ppp.01500.270.jpg I laugh and work with them—I joke at my work, 
 like a mettlesome young man. ¹⁷In winter I take my eel-basket and eel-spear and travel  
 out on foot on the ice—I have a small axe to cut  
 holes in the ice; Behold me, well-clothed, going gayly, or returning in  
 the afternoon—my brood of tough boys accom- 
 panying me, My brood of grown and part-grown boys, who love  
 to be with none else so well as they love to be  
 with me, By day to work with me, and by night to sleep with  
 me. ¹⁸Or, another time, in warm weather, out in a boat, to  
 lift the lobster-pots, where they are sunk with  
 heavy stones, (I know the buoys;) O the sweetness of the Fifth Month morning upon the  
 water, as I row, just before sunrise, toward the  
 buoys; I pull the wicker pots up slantingly—the dark green  
 lobsters are desperate with their claws, as I take  
 them out—I insert wooden pegs in the joints of  
 their pincers, I go to all the places, one after another, and then row  
 back to the shore, There, in a huge kettle of boiling water, the lobsters  
 shall be boiled till their color becomes scarlet. ¹⁹Or, another time, mackerel-taking, Voracious, mad for the hook, near the surface, they  
 seem to fill the water for miles;   [ begin page 263 ]ppp.01500.271.jpg Or, another time, fishing for rock-fish in Chesapeake  
 Bay—I one of the brown-faced crew; Or, another time, trailing for blue-fish off Paumanok, 
 I stand with braced body, My left foot is on the gunwale—my right arm throws  
 the coils of slender rope, In sight around me the quick veering and darting of  
 fifty skiffs, my companions. ²⁰O boating on the rivers! The voyage down the Niagara, (the St. Lawrence,)— 
 the superb scenery—the steamers, The ships sailing—the Thousand Islands—the occa- 
 sional timber-raft, and the raftsmen with long- 
 reaching sweep-oars, The little huts on the rafts, and the stream of smoke  
 when they cook supper at evening. ²¹O something pernicious and dread! Something far away from a puny and pious life! Something unproved! Something in a trance! Something escaped from the anchorage, and driving  
 free. ²²O to work in mines, or forging iron! Foundry casting—the foundry itself—the rude high  
 roof—the ample and shadowed space, The furnace—the hot liquid poured out and running. ²³O the joys of the soldier! To feel the presence of a brave general! to feel his  
 sympathy! To behold his calmness! to be warmed in the rays of  
 his smile!   [ begin page 264 ]ppp.01500.272.jpg To go to battle! to hear the bugles play, and the drums  
 beat! To hear the artillery! to see the glittering of the bay- 
 onets and musket-barrels in the sun! To see men fall and die and not complain! To taste the savage taste of blood! to be so devilish! To gloat so over the wounds and deaths of the enemy. ²⁴O the whaleman's joys! O I cruise my old cruise  
 again! I feel the ship's motion under me—I feel the Atlantic  
 breezes fanning me, I hear the cry again sent down from the mast-head, 
  There she blows, Again I spring up the rigging, to look with the rest— 
 We see—we descend, wild with excitement, I leap in the lowered boat—We row toward our prey, 
 where he lies, We approach, stealthy and silent—I see the moun- 
 tainous mass, lethargic, basking, I see the harpooner standing up—I see the weapon  
 dart from his vigorous arm; O swift, again, now, far out in the ocean, the wounded  
 whale, settling, running to windward, tows me, Again I see him rise to breathe—We row close  
 again, I see a lance driven through his side, pressed deep, 
 turned in the wound, Again we back off—I see him settle again—the life  
 is leaving him fast, As he rises, he spouts blood—I see him swim in cir- 
 cles narrower and narrower, swiftly cutting the  
 water—I see him die,   [ begin page 265 ]ppp.01500.273.jpg He gives one convulsive leap in the centre of the cir- 
 cle, and then falls flat and still in the bloody  
 foam. ²⁵O the old manhood of me, my joy! My children and grand-children—my white hair and  
 beard, My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long  
 stretch of my life. ²⁶O the ripened joy of womanhood! O perfect happiness at last! I am more than eighty years of age—my hair, too, is  
 pure white—I am the most venerable mother; How clear is my mind! how all people draw nigh to  
 me! What attractions are these, beyond any before? what  
 bloom, more than the bloom of youth? What beauty is this that descends upon me, and rises  
 out of me? ²⁷O the joy of my Soul leaning poised on itself—receiv- 
 ing identity through materials, and loving them  
 —observing characters, and absorbing them; O my Soul, vibrated back to me, from them—from  
 facts, sight, hearing, touch, my phrenology, 
 reason, articulation, comparison, memory, and  
 the like; O the real life of my senses and flesh, transcending  
 my senses and flesh; O my body, done with materials—my sight, done  
 with my material eyes; O what is proved to me this day, beyond cavil, that it  
 is not my material eyes which finally see, 23   [ begin page 266 ]ppp.01500.274.jpg Nor my material body which finally loves, walks, 
 laughs, shouts, embraces, procreates. ²⁸O the farmer's joys! Ohioan's, Illinoisian's, Wisconsinese', Kanadian's, Io- 
 wan's, Kansian's, Missourian's, Oregonese' joys, To rise at peep of day, and pass forth nimbly to work, To plough land in the fall for winter-sown crops, To plough land in the spring for maize, To train orchards—to graft the trees—to gather  
 apples in the fall. ²⁹O the pleasure with trees! The orchard—the forest—the oak, cedar, pine, 
 pekan-tree, The honey-locust, black-walnut, cottonwood, and mag- 
 nolia. ³⁰O Death! O the beautiful touch of Death, soothing and benumb- 
 ing a few moments, for reasons; O that of myself, discharging my excrementitious  
 body, to be burned, or rendered to powder, or  
 buried, My real body doubtless left to me for other spheres, My voided body, nothing more to me, returning to the  
 purifications, further offices, eternal uses of the  
 earth. ³¹O to bathe in the swimming-bath, or in a good place  
 along shore! To splash the water! to walk ankle-deep; to race  
 naked along the shore.   [ begin page 267 ]ppp.01500.275.jpg ³²O to realize space! The plenteousness of all—that there are no bounds; To emerge, and be of the sky—of the sun and moon, 
 and the flying clouds, as one with them. ³³O, while I live, to be the ruler of life—not a slave, To meet life as a powerful conqueror, No fumes—no ennui—no more complaints or scorn- 
 ful criticisms. ³⁴O me repellent and ugly! O to these proud laws of the air, the water, and  
 the ground, proving my interior Soul impreg- 
 nable, And nothing exterior shall ever take command of me. ³⁵O to attract by more than attraction! How it is I know not—yet behold! the something  
 which obeys none of the rest, It is offensive, never defensive—yet how magnetic  
 it draws. ³⁶O the joy of suffering! To struggle against great odds! to meet enemies un- 
 daunted! To be entirely alone with them! to find how much I  
 can stand! To look strife, torture, prison, popular odium, death, 
 face to face! To mount the scaffold! to advance to the muzzles of  
 guns with perfect nonchalance! To be indeed a God!   [ begin page 268 ]ppp.01500.276.jpg ³⁷O the gleesome saunter over fields and hill-sides! The leaves and flowers of the commonest weeds—the  
 moist fresh stillness of the woods, The exquisite smell of the earth at day-break, and all  
 through the forenoon. ³⁸O love-branches! love-root! love-apples! O chaste and electric torrents! O mad-sweet drops. ³⁹O the orator's joys! To inflate the chest—to roll the thunder of the voice  
 out from the ribs and throat, To make the people rage, weep, hate, desire, with  
 yourself, To lead America—to quell America with a great  
 tongue. ⁴⁰O the joy of a manly self-hood! Personality—to be servile to none—to defer to none  
 —not to any tyrant, known or unknown, To walk with erect carriage, a step springy and  
 elastic, To look with calm gaze, or with a flashing eye, To speak with a full and sonorous voice, out of a  
 broad chest, To confront with your personality all the other per- 
 sonalities of the earth. ⁴¹O to have my life henceforth my poem of joys! To dance, clap hands, exult, shout, skip, leap, roll on, 
 float on, An athlete—full of rich words—full of joys.   [ begin page 269 ]ppp.01500.277.jpg

A WORD OUT OF THE SEA.

OUT of the rocked cradle, Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle, Out of the boy's mother's womb, and from the nipples  
 of her breasts, Out of the Ninth Month midnight, Over the sterile sands, and the fields beyond, where  
 the child, leaving his bed, wandered alone, bare- 
 headed, barefoot, Down from the showered halo, Up from the mystic play of shadows, twining and  
 twisting as if they were alive, Out from the patches of briers and blackberries, From the memories of the bird that chanted to me, From your memories, sad brother—from the fitful  
 risings and fallings I heard, From under that yellow half-moon, late-risen, and  
 swollen as if with tears, From those beginning notes of sickness and love, 
 there in the transparent mist, From the thousand responses of my heart, never to  
 cease, 23*   [ begin page 270 ]ppp.01500.278.jpg From the myriad thence-aroused words, From the word stronger and more delicious than any, From such, as now they start, the scene revisiting, As a flock, twittering, rising, or overhead passing, Borne hither—ere all eludes me, hurriedly, A man—yet by these tears a little boy again, Throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves, I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and here- 
 after, Taking all hints to use them—but swiftly leaping  
 beyond them, A reminiscence sing.

REMINISCENCE.

¹ONCE, Paumanok, When the snows had melted, and the Fifth Month  
 grass was growing, Up this sea-shore, in some briers, Two guests from Alabama—two together, And their nest, and four light-green eggs, spotted with  
 brown, And every day the he-bird, to and fro, near at hand, And every day the she-bird, crouched on her nest,  
 silent, with bright eyes, And every day I, a curious boy, never too close, never  
 disturbing them, Cautiously peering, absorbing, translating. ² Shine! Shine! Pour down your warmth, great Sun! While we bask—we two together.   [ begin page 271 ]ppp.01500.279.jpg ³ Two together! Winds blow South, or winds blow North, Day come white, or night come black, Home, or rivers and mountains from home, Singing all time, minding no time, If we two but keep together. ⁴Till of a sudden, May-be killed, unknown to her mate, One forenoon the she-bird crouched not on the nest, Nor returned that afternoon, nor the next, Nor ever appeared again. ⁵And thenceforward, all summer, in the sound of the  
 sea, And at night, under the full of the moon, in calmer  
 weather, Over the hoarse surging of the sea, Or flitting from brier to brier by day, I saw, I heard at intervals, the remaining one, the  
 he-bird, The solitary guest from Alabama. ⁶ Blow! Blow! Blow up sea-winds along Paumanok's shore; I wait and I wait, till you blow my mate to me. ⁷Yes, when the stars glistened, All night long, on the prong of a moss-scallop'd stake, Down, almost amid the slapping waves, Sat the lone singer, wonderful, causing tears. ⁸He called on his mate, He poured forth the meanings which I, of all men,  
 know.   [ begin page 272 ]ppp.01500.280.jpg ⁹Yes, my brother, I know, The rest might not—but I have treasured every note, For once, and more than once, dimly, down to the  
 beach gliding, Silent, avoiding the moonbeams, blending myself with  
 the shadows, Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the  
 sounds and sights after their sorts, The white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing, I, with bare feet, a child, the wind wafting my hair, Listened long and long. ¹⁰Listened, to keep, to sing—now translating the  
 notes, Following you, my brother. ¹¹ Soothe! Soothe! Close on its wave soothes the wave behind, And again another behind, embracing and lapping,  
  every one close, But my love soothes not me. ¹² Low hangs the moon—it rose late, O it is lagging—O I think it is heavy with love. ¹³ O madly the sea pushes upon the land, With love—with love. ¹⁴ O night! O do I not see my love fluttering out there among the  
  breakers? What is that little black thing I see there in the  
  white?   [ begin page 273 ]ppp.01500.281.jpg ¹⁵ Loud! Loud! Loud I call to you my love! High and clear I shoot my voice over the waves, Surely you must know who is here, You must know who I am, my love. ¹⁶ Low-hanging moon! What is that dusky spot in your brown yellow? O it is the shape of my mate! O moon, do not keep her from me any longer. ¹⁷ Land! O land! Whichever way I turn, O I think you could give me  
  my mate back again, if you would, For I am almost sure I see her dimly whichever way  
  I look. ¹⁸ O rising stars! Perhaps the one I want so much will rise with some  
  of you. ¹⁹ O throat! Sound clearer through the atmosphere! Pierce the woods, the earth, Somewhere listening to catch you must be the one I  
  want. ²⁰ Shake out, carols! Solitary here—the night's carols! Carols of lonesome love! Death's carols! Carols under that lagging, yellow, waning moon! O, under that moon, where she droops almost down  
  into the sea! O reckless, despairing carols.   [ begin page 274 ]ppp.01500.282.jpg ²¹ But soft! Sink low — soft! Soft! Let me just murmur, And do you wait a moment, you husky-noised sea, For somewhere I believe I heard my mate responding  
  to me, So faint—I must be still to listen, But not altogether still, for then she might not come  
  immediately to me. ²² Hither, my love! Here I am! Here! With this just-sustained note I announce myself to  
  you, This gentle call is for you, my love. ²³ Do not be decoyed elsewhere! That is the whistle of the wind—it is not my voice, That is the fluttering of the spray, Those are the shadows of leaves. ²⁴ O darkness! O in vain! O I am very sick and sorrowful. ²⁵ O brown halo in the sky, near the moon, drooping  
  upon the sea! O troubled reflection in the sea! O throat! O throbbing heart! O all—and I singing uselessly all the night. ²⁶ Murmur! Murmur on! O murmurs—you yourselves make me continue to  
  sing, I know not why.   [ begin page 275 ]ppp.01500.283.jpg ²⁷ O past! O joy! In the air—in the woods—over fields, Loved! Loved! Loved! Loved! Loved! Loved—but no more with me, We two together no more. ²⁸The aria sinking, All else continuing—the stars shining, The winds blowing—the notes of the wondrous bird  
 echoing, With angry moans the fierce old mother yet, as ever,  
 incessantly moaning, On the sands of Paumanok's shore gray and rustling, The yellow half-moon, enlarged, sagging down, droop- 
 ing, the face of the sea almost touching, The boy extatic—with his bare feet the waves, with  
 his hair the atmosphere dallying, The love in the heart pent, now loose, now at last  
 tumultuously bursting, The aria's meaning, the ears, the Soul, swiftly depos- 
 iting, The strange tears down the cheeks coursing, The colloquy there—the trio—each uttering, The undertone—the savage old mother, incessantly  
 crying, To the boy's Soul's questions sullenly timing—some  
 drowned secret hissing, To the outsetting bard of love. ²⁹Bird! (then said the boy's Soul,) Is it indeed toward your mate you sing? or is it  
 mostly to me? For I that was a child, my tongue's use sleeping, Now that I have heard you,   [ begin page 276 ]ppp.01500.284.jpg Now in a moment I know what I am for—I awake, And already a thousand singers—a thousand songs,  
 clearer, louder, more sorrowful than yours, A thousand warbling echoes have started to life  
 within me, Never to die. ³⁰O throes! O you demon, singing by yourself—projecting me, O solitary me, listening—never more shall I cease  
 imitating, perpetuating you, Never more shall I escape, Never more shall the reverberations, Never more the cries of unsatisfied love be absent  
 from me, Never again leave me to be the peaceful child I was  
 before what there, in the night, By the sea, under the yellow and sagging moon, The dusky demon aroused—the fire, the sweet hell  
 within, The unknown want, the destiny of me. ³¹O give me some clew! O if I am to have so much, let me have more! O a word! O what is my destination? O I fear it is henceforth chaos! O how joys, dreads, convolutions, human shapes, and  
 all shapes, spring as from graves around me! O phantoms! you cover all the land, and all the sea! O I cannot see in the dimness whether you smile or  
 frown upon me; O vapor, a look, a word! O well-beloved! O you dear women's and men's phantoms!   [ begin page 277 ]ppp.01500.285.jpg ³²A word then, (for I will conquer it,) The word final, superior to all, Subtle, sent up—what is it?—I listen; Are you whispering it, and have been all the time,  
 you sea-waves? Is that it from your liquid rims and wet sands? ³³Answering, the sea, Delaying not, hurrying not, Whispered me through the night, and very plainly  
 before daybreak, Lisped to me constantly the low and delicious word  
 DEATH, And again Death—ever Death, Death, Death, Hissing melodious, neither like the bird, nor like my  
 aroused child's heart, But edging near, as privately for me, rustling at  
 my feet, And creeping thence steadily up to my ears, Death, Death, Death, Death, Death. ³⁴Which I do not forget, But fuse the song of two together, That was sung to me in the moonlight on Paumanok's  
 gray beach, With the thousand responsive songs, at random, My own songs, awaked from that hour, And with them the key, the word up from the waves, The word of the sweetest song, and all songs, That strong and delicious word which, creeping to  
 my feet, The sea whispered me. 24   [ begin page 278 ]ppp.01500.286.jpg

LEAF OF FACES.

¹SAUNTERING the pavement, or riding the country by- 
 road, here then are faces! Faces of friendship, precision, caution, suavity, ide- 
 ality, The spiritual prescient face—the always welcome, 
 common, benevolent face, The face of the singing of music—the grand faces of  
 natural lawyers and judges, broad at the back- 
 top, The faces of hunters and fishers, bulged at the brows  
 —the shaved blanched faces of orthodox citizens, The pure, extravagant, yearning, questioning artist's  
 face, The ugly face of some beautiful Soul, the handsome  
 detested or despised face, The sacred faces of infants, the illuminated face of the  
 mother of many children, The face of an amour, the face of veneration, The face as of a dream, the face of an immobile rock, The face withdrawn of its good and bad, a castrated  
 face, A wild hawk, his wings clipped by the clipper, A stallion that yielded at last to the thongs and knife  
 of the gelder.   [ begin page 279 ]ppp.01500.287.jpg ²Sauntering the pavement, or crossing the ceaseless  
 ferry, here then are faces, I see them and complain not, and am content with  
 all. ³Do you suppose I could be content with all; if I  
 thought them their own finale? ⁴This now is too lamentable a face for a man, Some abject louse, asking leave to be—cringing for it, Some milk-nosed maggot, blessing what lets it wrig to  
 its hole. ⁵This face is a dog's snout sniffling for garbage; Snakes nest in that mouth—I hear the sibilant threat. ⁶This face is a haze more chill than the arctic sea, Its sleepy and wobbling icebergs crunch as they go. ⁷This is a face of bitter herbs—this an emetic—they  
 need no label, And more of the drug-shelf, laudanum, caoutchouc, 
 or hog's-lard. ⁸This face is an epilepsy, its wordless tongue gives out  
 the unearthly cry, Its veins down the neck distend, its eyes roll till they  
 show nothing but their whites, Its teeth grit, the palms of the hands are cut by the  
 turned-in nails, The man falls struggling and foaming to the ground  
 while he speculates well. ⁹This face is bitten by vermin and worms, And this is some murderer's knife with a half-pulled  
 scabbard.   [ begin page 280 ]ppp.01500.288.jpg ¹⁰This face owes to the sexton his dismalest fee, In unceasing death-bell tolls there. ¹¹Those then are really men—the bosses and tufts of  
 the great round globe! ¹²Features of my equals, would you trick me with your  
 creased and cadaverous march? Well, you cannot trick me. ¹³I see your rounded never-erased flow, I see neath the rims of your haggard and mean dis- 
 guises. ¹⁴Splay and twist as you like—poke with the tangling  
 fores of fishes or rats, You'll be unmuzzled, you certainly will. ¹⁵I saw the face of the most smeared and slobbering  
 idiot they had at the asylum, And I knew for my consolation what they knew not, And I knew of the agents that emptied and broke my  
 brother, The same wait to clear the rubbish from the fallen  
 tenement, And I shall look again in a score or two of ages, And I shall meet the real landlord, perfect and un- 
 harmed, every inch as good as myself. ¹⁶The Lord advances, and yet advances, Always the shadow in front—always the reached  
 hand bringing up the laggards. ¹⁷Out of this face emerge banners and horses—O  
 superb! I see what is coming,   [ begin page 281 ]ppp.01500.289.jpg I see the high pioneer-caps—I see the staves of  
 runners clearing the way, I hear victorious drums. ¹⁸This face is a life-boat, This is the face commanding and bearded, it asks no  
 odds of the rest, This face is flavored fruit, ready for eating, This face of a healthy honest boy is the programme of  
 all good. ¹⁹These faces bear testimony slumbering or awake, They show their descent from the Master himself. ²⁰Off the word I have spoken I except not one—red, 
 white, black, are all deific, In each house is the ovum—it comes forth after a  
 thousand years. ²¹Spots or cracks at the windows do not disturb me, Tall and sufficient stand behind, and make signs to  
 me, I read the promise, and patiently wait. ²²This is a full-grown lily's face, She speaks to the limber-hipp'd man near the garden  
 pickets, Come here, she blushingly cries—Come nigh to me,  
  limber-hipp'd man, and give me your finger and  
  thumb, Stand at my side till I lean as high as I can upon you, Fill me with albescent honey, bend down to me, Rub to me with your chafing beard, rub to my breast  
  and shoulders. 24*   [ begin page 282 ]ppp.01500.290.jpg ²³The old face of the mother of many children! Whist! I am fully content. ²⁴Lulled and late is the smoke of the First Day  
 morning, It hangs low over the rows of trees by the fences, It hangs thin by the sassafras, the wild-cherry, and  
 the cat-brier under them. ²⁵I saw the rich ladies in full dress at the soiree, I heard what the singers were singing so long, Heard who sprang in crimson youth from the white  
 froth and the water-blue. ²⁶Behold a woman! She looks out from her quaker cap—her face is  
 clearer and more beautiful than the sky. ²⁷She sits in an arm-chair, under the shaded porch of  
 the farm-house, The sun just shines on her old white head. ²⁸Her ample gown is of cream-hued linen, Her grand-sons raised the flax, and her grand- 
 daughters spun it with the distaff and the  
 wheel. ²⁹The melodious character of the earth, The finish beyond which philosophy cannot go, and  
 does not wish to go, The justified mother of men.   [ begin page 283 ]ppp.01500.291.jpg

EUROPE, The 72d and 73d Years of These States.

¹SUDDENLY out of its stale and drowsy lair, the lair of  
 slaves, Like lightning it le'pt forth, half startled at itself, Its feet upon the ashes and the rags—its hands tight  
 to the throats of kings. ²O hope and faith! O aching close of exiled patriots' lives! O many a sickened heart! Turn back unto this day, and make yourselves  
 afresh. ³And you, paid to defile the People! you liars, mark! Not for numberless agonies, murders, lusts, For court thieving in its manifold mean forms, worm- 
 ing from his simplicity the poor man's wages, For many a promise sworn by royal lips, and broken, 
 and laughed at in the breaking, Then in their power, not for all these did the blows  
 strike revenge, or the heads of the nobles fall; The People scorned the ferocity of kings. ⁴But the sweetness of mercy brewed bitter destruction, 
 and the frightened rulers come back,   [ begin page 284 ]ppp.01500.292.jpg Each comes in state with his train—hangman, priest, 
 tax-gatherer, Soldier, lawyer, lords, jailers, and sycophants. ⁵Yet behind all, hovering, stealing—lo, a Shape, Vague as the night, draped interminably, head front  
 and form, in scarlet folds, Whose face and eyes none may see, Out of its robes only this—the red robes, lifted by  
 the arm, One finger crook'd, pointed high over the top, like  
 the head of a snake appears. ⁶Meanwhile, corpses lie in new-made graves—bloody  
 corpses of young men; The rope of the gibbet hangs heavily, the bullets of  
 princes are flying, the creatures of power laugh  
 aloud, And all these things bear fruits—and they are good. ⁷Those corpses of young men, Those martyrs that hang from the gibbets—those  
 hearts pierced by the gray lead, Cold and motionless as they seem, live elsewhere with  
 unslaughter'd vitality. ⁸They live in other young men, O kings! They live in brothers, again ready to defy you! They were purified by death—they were taught and  
 exalted. ⁹Not a grave of the murdered for freedom, but grows  
 seed for freedom, in its turn to bear seed, Which the winds carry afar and re-sow, and the rains  
 and the snows nourish.   [ begin page 285 ]ppp.01500.293.jpg ¹⁰Not a disembodied spirit can the weapons of tyrants  
 let loose, But it stalks invisibly over the earth, whispering, 
 counselling, cautioning. ¹¹Liberty! let others despair of you! I never despair  
 of you. ¹²Is the house shut? Is the master away? Nevertheless be ready—be not weary of watching, He will soon return—his messengers come anon.   [ begin page 286 ]ppp.01500.294.jpg

THOUGHT.

OF Public Opinion, Of a calm and cool fiat, sooner or later, (How im- 
 passive! How certain and final!) Of the President with pale face asking secretly to  
 himself, What will the people say at last? Of the frivolous Judge—Of the corrupt Congressman,  
 Governor, Mayor—Of such as these, standing  
 helpless and exposed; Of the mumbling and screaming priest—(soon, soon  
 deserted;) Of the lessening, year by year, of venerableness, and  
 of the dicta of officers, statutes, pulpits, schools, Of the rising forever taller and stronger and broader,  
 of the intuitions of men and women, and of self- 
 esteem, and of personality; Of the New World—Of the Democracies, resplendent,  
 en-masse, Of the conformity of politics, armies, navies, to them  
 and to me, Of the shining sun by them—Of the inherent light,  
 greater than the rest, Of the envelopment of all by them, and of the effusion  
 of all from them.   [ begin page 287 ]ppp.01500.295.jpg

Enfans d'Adam.

1.

TO the garden, the world, anew ascending, Potent mates, daughters, sons, preluding, The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being, Curious, here behold my resurrection, after slumber, The revolving cycles, in their wide sweep, having  
 brought me again, Amorous, mature—all beautiful to me—all won- 
 drous, My limbs, and the quivering fire that ever plays through them, for reasons, most wondrous; Existing, I peer and penetrate still, Content with the present—content with the past, By my side, or back of me, Eve following, Or in front, and I following her just the same.   [ begin page 288 ]ppp.01500.296.jpg

2.

FROM that of myself, without which I were nothing, From what I am determined to make illustrious, even  
 if I stand sole among men, From my own voice resonant—singing the phallus, Singing the song of procreation, Singing the need of superb children, and therein  
 superb grown people, Singing the muscular urge and the blending, Singing the bedfellow's song, (O resistless yearning! O for any and each, the body correlative attracting! O for you, whoever you are, your correlative body! 
 O it, more than all else, you delighting!) From the pent up rivers of myself, From the hungry gnaw that eats me night and day, From native moments—from bashful pains—sing- 
 ing them, Singing something yet unfound, though I have dili- 
 gently sought it, ten thousand years, Singing the true song of the Soul, fitful, at random, Singing what, to the Soul, entirely redeemed her, the  
 faithful one, the prostitute, who detained me when  
 I went to the city, Singing the song of prostitutes; Renascent with grossest Nature, or among animals, Of that—of them, and what goes with them, my  
 poems informing, Of the smell of apples and lemons—of the pairing  
 of birds, Of the wet of woods—of the lapping of waves,   [ begin page 289 ]ppp.01500.297.jpg Of the mad pushes of waves upon the land—I them  
 chanting, The overture lightly sounding—the strain antici- 
 pating, The welcome nearness—the sight of the perfect  
 body, The swimmer swimming naked in the bath, or mo- 
 tionless on his back lying and floating, The female form approaching—I, pensive, love-flesh  
 tremulous, aching; The slave's body for sale—I, sternly, with harsh  
 voice, auctioneering, The divine list, for myself or you, or for any one, 
 making, The face—the limbs—the index from head to foot, 
 and what it arouses, The mystic deliria—the madness amorous—the utter  
 abandonment, (Hark, close and still, what I now whisper to you, I love you—O you entirely possess me, O I wish that you and I escape from the rest, and go  
 utterly off—O free and lawless, Two hawks in the air—two fishes swimming in the  
 sea not more lawless than we;) The furious storm through me careering—I passion- 
 ately trembling, The oath of the inseparableness of two together—of  
 the woman that loves me, and whom I love more  
 than my life—That oath swearing, (O I willingly stake all, for you! O let me be lost, if it must be so! O you and I—what is it to us what the rest do or  
 think? 25   [ begin page 290 ]ppp.01500.298.jpg What is all else to us? only that we enjoy each other, 
 and exhaust each other, if it must be so;) From the master—the pilot I yield the vessel to, The general commanding me, commanding all—from  
 him permission taking, From time the programme hastening, (I have loitered  
 too long, as it is;) From sex—From the warp and from the woof, (To talk to the perfect girl who understands me—the  
 girl of The States, To waft to her these from my own lips—to effuse  
 them from my own body;) From privacy—From frequent repinings alone, From plenty of persons near, and yet the right person  
 not near, From the soft sliding of hands over me, and thrusting  
 of fingers through my hair and beard, From the long-sustained kiss upon the mouth or  
 bosom, From the close pressure that makes me or any man  
 drunk, fainting with excess, From what the divine husband knows—from the  
 work of fatherhood, From exultation, victory, and relief—from the bed- 
 fellow's embrace in the night, From the act-poems of eyes, hands, hips, and bosoms, From the cling of the trembling arm, From the bending curve and the clinch, From side by side, the pliant coverlid off throwing, From the one so unwilling to have me leave—and  
 me just as unwilling to leave, (Yet a moment, O tender waiter, and I return,) From the hour of shining stars and dropping dews,   [ begin page 291 ]ppp.01500.299.jpg From the night, a moment, I, emerging, flitting out, Celebrate you, enfans prepared for, And you, stalwart loins.

3.

¹O MY children! O mates! O the bodies of you, and of all men and women,  
 engirth me, and I engirth them, O they will not let me off, nor I them, till I go with  
 them, respond to them, And respond to the contact of them, and discorrupt  
 them, and charge them with the charge of the  
 Soul. ²Was it doubted if those who corrupt their own bodies  
 conceal themselves? And if those who defile the living are as bad as they  
 who defile the dead? And if the body does not do as much as the Soul? And if the body were not the Soul, what is the Soul? ³The love of the body of man or woman balks account  
 —the body itself balks account, That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is  
 perfect. ⁴The expression of the face balks account, But the expression of a well made man appears not  
 only in his face,   [ begin page 292 ]ppp.01500.300.jpg It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the  
 joints of his hips and wrists, It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex  
 of his waist and knees—dress does not hide  
 him, The strong, sweet, supple quality he has, strikes  
 through the cotton and flannel, To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem,  
 perhaps more, You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck  
 and shoulder-side. ⁵The sprawl and fulness of babes, the bosoms and  
 heads of women, the folds of their dress, their  
 style as we pass in the street, the contour of their  
 shape downwards, The swimmer naked in the swimming bath, seen as  
 he swims through the transparent green-shine, or  
 lies with his face up, and rolls silently to and fro  
 in the heave of the water, The bending forward and backward of rowers in row- 
 boats—the horseman in his saddle, Girls, mothers, house-keepers, in all their perform- 
 ances, The group of laborers seated at noon-time with their  
 open dinner-kettles, and their wives waiting, The female soothing a child—the farmer's daughter  
 in the garden or cow-yard, The young fellow hoeing corn—the sleigh-driver  
 guiding his six horses through the crowd, The wrestle of wrestlers, two apprentice-boys, quite  
 grown, lusty, good-natured, native-born, out on  
 the vacant lot at sun-down, after work,   [ begin page 293 ]ppp.01500.301.jpg The coats and caps thrown down, the embrace of love  
 and resistance, The upper-hold and under-hold, the hair rumpled  
 over and blinding the eyes; The march of firemen in their own costumes, the  
 play of masculine muscle through clean-setting  
 trousers and waist-straps, The slow return from the fire, the pause when the  
 bell strikes suddenly again, and the listening on  
 the alert, The natural, perfect, varied attitudes—the bent head,  
 the curved neck, and the counting, Such-like I love—I loosen myself, pass freely, am at  
 the mother's breast with the little child, Swim with the swimmers, wrestle with wrestlers,  
 march in line with the firemen, and pause, listen,  
 and count. ⁶I knew a man, He was a common farmer—he was the father of five  
 sons, And in them were the fathers of sons—and in them  
 were the fathers of sons. ⁷This man was of wonderful vigor, calmness, beauty  
 of person, The shape of his head, the richness and breadth of  
 his manners, the pale yellow and white of his  
 hair and beard, and the immeasurable meaning  
 of his black eyes, These I used to go and visit him to see—he was wise  
 also, 25*   [ begin page 294 ]ppp.01500.302.jpg He was six feet tall, he was over eighty years old—  
 his sons were massive, clean, bearded, tan-faced,  
 handsome, They and his daughters loved him—all who saw him  
 loved him, They did not love him by allowance—they loved him  
 with personal love; He drank water only—the blood showed like scarlet  
 through the clear-brown skin of his face, He was a frequent gunner and fisher—he sailed  
 his boat himself—he had a fine one presented  
 to him by a ship-joiner—he had fowling-  
 pieces, presented to him by men that loved  
 him; When he went with his five sons and many grand- 
 sons to hunt or fish, you would pick him out  
 as the most beautiful and vigorous of the  
 gang, You would wish long and long to be with him—you  
 would wish to sit by him in the boat, that you  
 and he might touch each other. ⁸I have perceived that to be with those I like is  
 enough, To stop in company with the rest at evening is  
 enough, To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing,  
 laughing flesh is enough, To pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my  
 arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a  
 moment—what is this, then? I do not ask any more delight—I swim in it, as in  
 a sea.   [ begin page 295 ]ppp.01500.303.jpg ⁹There is something in staying close to men and  
 women, and looking on them, and in the contact  
 and odor of them, that pleases the Soul well, All things please the Soul—but these please the  
 Soul well. ¹⁰This is the female form, A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot, It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction, I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than  
 a helpless vapor—all falls aside but myself  
 and it, Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth,  
 the atmosphere and the clouds, and what was  
 expected of heaven or feared of hell, are now  
 consumed, Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it, the  
 response likewise ungovernable, Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling  
 hands, all diffused—mine too diffused, Ebb stung by the flow, and flow stung by the ebb—  
 love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching, Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous,  
 quivering jelly of love, white-blow and delirious  
 juice, Bridegroom-night of love, working surely and softly  
 into the prostrate dawn, Undulating into the willing and yielding day, Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-fleshed  
 day. ¹¹This is the nucleus—after the child is born of  
 woman, the man is born of woman,   [ begin page 296 ]ppp.01500.304.jpg This is the bath of birth—this is the merge of small  
 and large, and the outlet again. ¹²Be not ashamed, women—your privilege encloses  
 the rest, and is the exit of the rest, You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates  
 of the Soul. ¹³The female contains all qualities, and tempers them  
 —she is in her place, and moves with perfect  
 balance, She is all things duly veiled—she is both passive and  
 active, She is to conceive daughters as well as sons, and sons  
 as well as daughters. ¹⁴As I see my Soul reflected in nature, As I see through a mist, one with inexpressible com- 
 pleteness and beauty, See the bent head and arms folded over the breast—  
 the female I see. ¹⁵The male is not less the Soul, nor more—he too is in  
 his place, He too is all qualities—he is action and power, The flush of the known universe is in him, Scorn becomes him well, and appetite and defiance  
 become him well, The wildest largest passions, bliss that is utmost,  
 sorrow that is utmost, become him well—pride  
 is for him, The full-spread pride of man is calming and excellent  
 to the Soul;   [ begin page 297 ]ppp.01500.305.jpg Knowledge becomes him—he likes it always—he  
 brings everything to the test of himself, Whatever the survey, whatever the sea and the sail,  
 he strikes soundings at last only here, Where else does he strike soundings, except here? ¹⁶The man's body is sacred, and the woman's body is  
 sacred, No matter who it is, it is sacred; Is it a slave? Is it one of the dull-faced immigrants  
 just landed on the wharf? Each belongs here or anywhere just as much as the  
 well-off—just as much as you, Each has his or her place in the procession. ¹⁷All is a procession, The universe is a procession, with measured and  
 beautiful motion. ¹⁸Do you know so much yourself, that you call the slave  
 or the dull-face ignorant? Do you suppose you have a right to a good sight, and  
 he or she has no right to a sight? Do you think matter has cohered together from its  
 diffused float—and the soil is on the surface,  
 and water runs, and vegetation sprouts, For you only, and not for him and her? ¹⁹A man's body at auction! I help the auctioneer—the sloven does not half know  
 his business. ²⁰Gentlemen, look on this wonder! Whatever the bids of the bidders, they cannot be high  
 enough for it,   [ begin page 298 ]ppp.01500.306.jpg For it the globe lay preparing quintillions of years,  
 without one animal or plant, For it the revolving cycles truly and steadily rolled. ²¹In this head the all-baffling brain, In it and below it, the making of the attributes of  
 heroes. ²²Examine these limbs, red, black, or white—they are  
 so cunning in tendon and nerve, They shall be stript, that you may see them. ²³Exquisite senses, life-lit eyes, pluck, volition, Flakes of breast-muscle, pliant back-bone and neck,  
 flesh not flabby, good-sized arms and legs, And wonders within there yet. ²⁴Within there runs blood, The same old blood! The same red-running blood! There swells and jets a heart—there all passions,  
 desires, reachings, aspirations, Do you think they are not there because they are not  
 expressed in parlors and lecture-rooms? ²⁵This is not only one man—this is the father of those  
 who shall be fathers in their turns, In him the start of populous states and rich republics, Of him countless immortal lives, with countless em- 
 bodiments and enjoyments. ²⁶How do you know who shall come from the offspring  
 of his offspring through the centuries?   [ begin page 299 ]ppp.01500.307.jpg Who might you find you have come from yourself, if  
 you could trace back through the centuries? ²⁷A woman's body at auction! She too is not only herself—she is the teeming  
 mother of mothers, She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be  
 mates to the mothers. ²⁸Her daughters, or their daughters' daughters—who  
 knows who shall mate with them? Who knows through the centuries what heroes may  
 come from them? ²⁹In them, and of them, natal love—in them that  
 divine mystery, the same old beautiful mystery. ³⁰Have you ever loved the body of a woman? Have you ever loved the body of a man? Your father—where is your father? Your mother—is she living? have you been much  
 with her? and has she been much with you? Do you not see that these are exactly the same to all,  
 in all nations and times, all over the earth? ³¹If any thing is sacred, the human body is sacred, And the glory and sweet of a man, is the token of  
 manhood untainted, And in man or woman, a clean, strong, firm-fibred  
 body, is beautiful as the most beautiful face. ³²Have you seen the fool that corrupted his own live  
 body? or the fool that corrupted her own live  
 body?   [ begin page 300 ]ppp.01500.308.jpg For they do not conceal themselves, and cannot con- 
 ceal themselves. ³³O my body! I dare not desert the likes of you in  
 other men and women, nor the likes of the parts  
 of you; I believe the likes of you are to stand or fall with the  
 likes of the Soul, (and that they are the Soul,)  
 I believe the likes of you shall stand or fall with my  
 poems—and that they are poems, Man's, woman's, child's, youth's, wife's, husband's,  
 mother's, father's, young man's, young woman's  
 poems, Head, neck, hair, ears, drop and tympan of the ears, Eyes, eye-fringes, iris of the eye, eye-brows, and the  
 waking or sleeping of the lids, Mouth, tongue, lips, teeth, roof of the mouth, jaws,  
 and the jaw-hinges, Nose, nostrils of the nose, and the partition, Cheeks, temples, forehead, chin, throat, back of the  
 neck, neck-slue, Strong shoulders, manly beard, scapula, hind-shoul- 
 ders, and the ample side-round of the chest, Upper-arm, arm-pit, elbow-socket, lower-arm, arm-  
 sinews, arm-bones, Wrist and wrist-joints, hand, palm, knuckles, thumb,  
 fore-finger, finger-balls, finger-joints, finger-nails, Broad breast-front, curling hair of the breast, breast-  
 bone, breast-side, Ribs, belly, back-bone, joints of the back-bone, Hips, hip-sockets, hip-strength, inward and outward  
 round, man-balls, man-root, Strong set of thighs, well carrying the trunk above,   [ begin page 301 ]ppp.01500.309.jpg Leg-fibres, knee, knee-pan, upper-leg, under-leg, Ankles, instep, foot-ball, toes, toe-joints, the heel, All attitudes, all the shapeliness, all the belongings of  
 my or your body, or of any one's body, male or  
 female, The lung-sponges, the stomach-sac, the bowels sweet  
 and clean, The brain in its folds inside the skull-frame, Sympathies, heart-valves, palate-valves, sexuality, ma- 
 ternity, Womanhood, and all that is a woman—and the man  
 that comes from woman, The womb, the teats, nipples, breast-milk, tears, laugh- 
 ter, weeping, love-looks, love-perturbations and  
 risings, The voice, articulation, language, whispering, shout- 
 ing aloud, Food, drink, pulse, digestion, sweat, sleep, walking,  
 swimming, Poise on the hips, leaping, reclining, embracing, arm-  
 curving, and tightening, The continual changes of the flex of the mouth, and  
 around the eyes, The skin, the sun-burnt shade, freckles, hair, The curious sympathy one feels, when feeling with  
 the hand the naked meat of his own body, or  
 another person's body, The circling rivers, the breath, and breathing it in  
 and out, The beauty of the waist, and thence of the hips, and  
 thence downward toward the knees, The thin red jellies within you, or within me—the  
 bones, and the marrow in the bones, 26   [ begin page 302 ]ppp.01500.310.jpg The exquisite realization of health, O I say now these are not the parts and poems of the  
 body only, but of the Soul, O I say these are the Soul!

4.

¹A WOMAN waits for me—she contains all, nothing is  
 lacking, Yet all were lacking, if sex were lacking, or if the  
 moisture of the right man were lacking. ²Sex contains all, Bodies, Souls, meanings, proofs, purities, delicacies,  
 results, promulgations, Songs, commands, health, pride, the maternal mystery,  
 the semitic milk, All hopes, benefactions, bestowals, All the passions, loves, beauties, delights of the  
 earth, All the governments, judges, gods, followed persons  
 of the earth, These are contained in sex, as parts of itself, and jus- 
 tifications of itself. ³Without shame the man I like knows and avows the  
 deliciousness of his sex, Without shame the woman I like knows and avows  
 hers.   [ begin page 303 ]ppp.01500.311.jpg ⁴O I will fetch bully breeds of children yet! I will dismiss myself from impassive women, I will go stay with her who waits for me, and with  
 those women that are warm-blooded and suffi- 
 cient for me; I see that they understand me, and do not deny me, I see that they are worthy of me—I will be the robust  
 husband of those women. ⁵They are not one jot less than I am, They are tanned in the face by shining suns and blow- 
 ing winds, Their flesh has the old divine suppleness and strength, They know how to swim, row, ride, wrestle, shoot,  
 run, strike, retreat, advance, resist, defend them- 
 selves, They are ultimate in their own right—they are calm,  
 clear, well-possessed of themselves. ⁶I draw you close to me, you women! I cannot let you go, I would do you good, I am for you, and you are for me, not only for our  
 own sake, but for others' sakes; Enveloped in you sleep greater heroes and bards, They refuse to awake at the touch of any man but me. ⁷It is I, you women—I make my way, I am stern, acrid, large, undissuadable—but I love  
 you, I do not hurt you any more than is necessary for you, I pour the stuff to start sons and daughters fit for These  
 States—I press with slow rude muscle, I brace myself effectually—I listen to no entreaties,   [ begin page 304 ]ppp.01500.312.jpg I dare not withdraw till I deposit what has so long  
 accumulated within me. ⁸Through you I drain the pent-up rivers of myself, In you I wrap a thousand onward years, On you I graft the grafts of the best-beloved of me and  
 of America, The drops I distil upon you shall grow fierce and  
 athletic girls, new artists, musicians, and singers, The babes I beget upon you are to beget babes in  
 their turn, I shall demand perfect men and women out of my  
 love-spendings, I shall expect them to interpenetrate with others, as I  
 and you interpenetrate now, I shall count on the fruits of the gushing showers of  
 them, as I count on the fruits of the gushing  
 showers I give now, I shall look for loving crops from the birth, life, death,  
 immortality, I plant so lovingly now.

5.

SPONTANEOUS me, Nature, The loving day, the friend I am happy with, The arm of my friend hanging idly over my shoulder, The hill-side whitened with blossoms of the mountain  
 ash, The same, late in autumn—the gorgeous hues of red, 
 yellow, drab, purple, and light and dark green,   [ begin page 305 ]ppp.01500.313.jpg The rich coverlid of the grass—animals and birds— 
 the private untrimmed bank—the primitive apples  
 —the pebble-stones, Beautiful dripping fragments—the negligent list of  
 one after another, as I happen to call them to me, 
 or think of them, The real poems, (what we call poems being merely  
 pictures,) The poems of the privacy of the night, and of men  
 like me, This poem, drooping shy and unseen, that I always  
 carry, and that all men carry, (Know, once for all, avowed on purpose, wherever are  
 men like me, are our lusty, lurking, masculine, 
 poems,) Love-thoughts, love-juice, love-odor, love-yielding, love- 
 climbers, and the climbing sap, Arms and hands of love—lips of love—phallic thumb  
 of love—breasts of love—bellies pressed and  
 glued together with love, Earth of chaste love—life that is only life after  
 love, The body of my love—the body of the woman I  
 love—the body of the man—the body of the  
 earth, Soft forenoon airs that blow from the south-west, The hairy wild-bee that murmurs and hankers up and  
 down—that gripes the full-grown lady-flower, 
 curves upon her with amorous firm legs, takes  
 his will of her, and holds himself tremulous and  
 tight upon her till he is satisfied, The wet of woods through the early hours, 26*   [ begin page 306 ]ppp.01500.314.jpg Two sleepers at night lying close together as they sleep, 
 one with an arm slanting down across and below  
 the waist of the other, The smell of apples, aromas from crushed sage-plant, 
 mint, birch-bark, The boy's longings, the glow and pressure as he con- 
 fides to me what he was dreaming, The dead leaf whirling its spiral whirl, and falling still  
 and content to the ground, The no-formed stings that sights, people, objects, sting  
 me with, The hubbed sting of myself, stinging me as much as it  
 ever can any one, The sensitive, orbic, underlapped brothers, that only  
 privileged feelers may be intimate where they  
 are, The curious roamer, the hand, roaming all over the  
 body—the bashful withdrawing of flesh where  
 the fingers soothingly pause and edge themselves, The limpid liquid within the young man, The vexed corrosion, so pensive and so painful, The torment—the irritable tide that will not be at  
 rest, The like of the same I feel—the like of the same in  
 others, The young woman that flushes and flushes, and the  
 young man that flushes and flushes, The young man that wakes, deep at night, the hot  
 hand seeking to repress what would master him  
 —the strange half-welcome pangs, visions, sweats, The pulse pounding through palms and trembling  
 encircling fingers—the young man all colored, 
 red, ashamed, angry;   [ begin page 307 ]ppp.01500.315.jpg The souse upon me of my lover the sea, as I lie willing  
 and naked, The merriment of the twin-babes that crawl over the  
 grass in the sun, the mother never turning her  
 vigilant eyes from them, The walnut-trunk, the walnut-husks, and the ripening  
 or ripened long-round walnuts, The continence of vegetables, birds, animals, The consequent meanness of me should I skulk or find  
 myself indecent, while birds and animals never  
 once skulk or find themselves indecent, The great chastity of paternity, to match the great  
 chastity of maternity, The oath of procreation I have sworn—my Adamic  
 and fresh daughters, The greed that eats me day and night with hungry  
 gnaw, till I saturate what shall produce boys to  
 fill my place when I am through, The wholesome relief, repose, content, And this bunch plucked at random from myself, It has done its work—I toss it carelessly to fall  
 where it may.

6.

¹O FURIOUS! O confine me not! (What is this that frees me so in storms? What do my shouts amid lightnings and raging winds  
 mean?)   [ begin page 308 ]ppp.01500.316.jpg ²O to drink the mystic deliria deeper than any other  
 man! O savage and tender achings! (I bequeath them to you, my children, I tell them to you, for reasons, O bridegroom and  
 bride.) ³O to be yielded to you, whoever you are, and you to  
 be yielded me, in defiance of the world! (Know, I am a man, attracting, at any time, her I but  
 look upon, or touch with the tips of my fingers, Or that touches my face, or leans against me.) ⁴O to return to Paradise! O to draw you to me—to plant on you, for the first  
 time, the lips of a determined man! O rich and feminine! O to show you to realize the  
 blood of life for yourself, whoever you are—and  
 no matter when and where you live. ⁵O the puzzle—the thrice-tied knot—the deep and  
 dark pool! O all untied and illumined! O to speed where there is space enough and air  
 enough at last! O to be absolved from previous follies and degrada- 
 tions—I from mine, and you from yours! O to find a new unthought-of nonchalance with the  
 best of nature! O to have the gag removed from one's mouth! O to have the feeling, to-day or any day, I am suffi- 
 cient as I am! ⁶O something unproved! something in a trance! O madness amorous! O trembling!   [ begin page 309 ]ppp.01500.317.jpg O to escape utterly from others' anchors and holds! To drive free! to love free! to dash reckless and  
 dangerous! To court destruction with taunts—with invitations! To ascend—to leap to the heavens of the love  
 indicated to me! To rise thither with my inebriate Soul! To be lost, if it must be so! To feed the remainder of life with one hour of ful- 
 ness and freedom! With one brief hour of madness and joy.

7.

YOU and I—what the earth is, we are, We two—how long we were fooled! Now delicious, transmuted, swiftly we escape, as  
 Nature escapes, We are Nature—long have we been absent, but now  
 we return, We become plants, leaves, foliage, roots, bark, We are bedded in the ground—we are rocks, We are oaks—we grow in the openings side by side, We browse—we are two among the wild herds, 
 spontaneous as any, We are two fishes swimming in the sea together, We are what the locust blossoms are—we drop scent around the lanes, mornings and evenings, We are also the coarse smut of beasts, vegetables, 
 minerals,   [ begin page 310 ]ppp.01500.318.jpg We are what the flowing wet of the Tennessee is— 
 we are two peaks of the Blue Mountains, rising  
 up in Virginia, We are two predatory hawks—we soar above and  
 look down, We are two resplendent suns—we it is who balance  
 ourselves orbic and stellar—we are as two  
 comets; We prowl fanged and four-footed in the woods—we  
 spring on prey; We are two clouds, forenoons and afternoons, driving  
 overhead, We are seas mingling—we are two of those cheerful  
 waves, rolling over each other, and interwetting  
 each other, We are what the atmosphere is, transparent, receptive, 
 pervious, impervious, We are snow, rain, cold, darkness—we are each  
 product and influence of the globe, We have circled and circled till we have arrived  
 home again—we two have, We have voided all but freedom, and all but our  
 own joy.

8.

NATIVE moments! when you come upon me—Ah  
 you are here now! Give me now libidinous joys only! Give me the drench of my passions! Give me life  
 coarse and rank! To-day, I go consort with nature's darlings—to-night  
 too,   [ begin page 311 ]ppp.01500.319.jpg I am for those who believe in loose delights—I share  
 the midnight orgies of young men, I dance with the dancers, and drink with the drink- 
 ers, The echoes ring with our indecent calls, I take for my love some prostitute—I pick out some  
 low person for my dearest friend, He shall be lawless, rude, illiterate—he shall be one  
 condemned by others for deeds done; I will play a part no longer—Why should I exile  
 myself from my companions? O you shunned persons! I at least do not shun you, I come forthwith in your midst—I will be your poet, I will be more to you than to any of the rest.

9.

ONCE I passed through a populous city, imprinting  
 my brain, for future use, with its shows, architec- 
 ture, customs, and traditions; Yet now, of all that city, I remember only a woman  
 I casually met there, who detained me for love  
 of me, Day by day and night by night we were together,— 
 All else has long been forgotten by me, I remember I say only that woman who passionately  
 clung to me, Again we wander—we love—we separate again, Again she holds me by the hand—I must not go! I see her close beside me, with silent lips, sad and  
 tremulous.   [ begin page 312 ]ppp.01500.320.jpg

10.

INQUIRING, tireless, seeking that yet unfound, I, a child, very old, over waves, toward the house of  
 maternity, the land of migrations, look afar, Look off the shores of my Western Sea—having  
 arrived at last where I am—the circle almost  
 circled; For coming westward from Hindustan, from the vales  
 of Kashmere, From Asia—from the north—from the God, the  
 sage, and the hero, From the south—from the flowery peninsulas, and  
 the spice islands, Now I face the old home again—looking over to it, 
 joyous, as after long travel, growth, and sleep; But where is what I started for, so long ago? And why is it yet unfound?

11.

IN the new garden, in all the parts, In cities now, modern, I wander, Though the second or third result, or still further, 
 primitive yet, Days, places, indifferent—though various, the same, Time, Paradise, the Mannahatta, the prairies, finding  
 me unchanged, Death indifferent—Is it that I lived long since? 
 Was I buried very long ago?   [ begin page 313 ]ppp.01500.321.jpg For all that, I may now be watching you here, this  
 moment; For the future, with determined will, I seek—the  
 woman of the future, You, born years, centuries after me, I seek.

12.

AGES and ages, returning at intervals, Undestroyed, wandering immortal, Lusty, phallic, with the potent original loins, perfectly  
 sweet, I, chanter of Adamic songs, Through the new garden, the West, the great cities, 
 calling, Deliriate, thus prelude what is generated, offering  
 these, offering myself, Bathing myself, bathing my songs in sex, Offspring of my loins.

13.

O HYMEN! O hymenee! Why do you tantalize me thus? O why sting me for a swift moment only? Why can you not continue? O why do you now  
 cease? Is it because, if you continued beyond the swift  
 moment, you would soon certainly kill me? 27   [ begin page 314 ]ppp.01500.322.jpg

14.

I AM he that aches with love; Does the earth gravitate? Does not all matter, ach- 
 ing, attract all matter? So the body of me to all I meet, or that I know.

15.

EARLY in the morning, Walking forth from the bower, refreshed with sleep, Behold me where I pass—hear my voice—approach, Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my  
 body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body.   [ begin page 315 ]ppp.01500.323.jpg

POEM OF THE ROAD.

¹AFOOT and light-hearted I take to the open road, Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me, leading wherever I  
 choose. ²Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I am good- 
 fortune, Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, 
 need nothing, Strong and content, I travel the open road. ³The earth—that is sufficient, I do not want the constellations any nearer, I know they are very well where they are, I know they suffice for those who belong to them. ⁴Still here I carry my old delicious burdens, I carry them, men and women—I carry them with  
 me wherever I go, I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them, I am filled with them, and I will fill them in return. ⁵You road I travel and look around! I believe you  
 are not all that is here, I believe that much unseen is also here.   [ begin page 316 ]ppp.01500.324.jpg ⁶Here is the profound lesson of reception, neither  
 preference or denial, The black with his woolly head, the felon, the dis- 
 eased, the illiterate person, are not denied; The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beg- 
 gar's tramp, the drunkard's stagger, the laughing  
 party of mechanics, The escaped youth, the rich person's carriage, the fop, 
 the eloping couple, The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of  
 furniture into the town, the return back from  
 the town, They pass, I also pass, any thing passes—none can  
 be interdicted, None but are accepted, none but are dear to me. ⁷You air that serves me with breath to speak! You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and  
 give them shape! You light that wraps me and all things in delicate  
 equable showers! You animals moving serenely over the earth! You birds that wing yourselves through the air! you  
 insects! You sprouting growths from the farmers' fields! you  
 stalks and weeds by the fences! You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the road- 
 sides! I think you are latent with curious existences—you  
 are so dear to me. ⁸You flagged walks of the cities! you strong curbs at  
 the edges!   [ begin page 317 ]ppp.01500.325.jpg You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you  
 timber-lined sides! you distant ships! You rows of houses! you window-pierced façades! 
 you roofs! You porches and entrances! you copings and iron  
 guards! You windows whose transparent shells might expose  
 so much! You doors and ascending steps! you arches! You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trod- 
 den crossings! From all that has been near you I believe you have  
 imparted to yourselves, and now would impart  
 the same secretly to me, From the living and the dead I think you have peopled  
 your impassive surfaces, and the spirits thereof  
 would be evident and amicable with me. ⁹The earth expanding right hand and left hand, The picture alive, every part in its best light, The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping  
 where it was not wanted, The cheerful voice of the public road—the gay fresh  
 sentiment of the road. ¹⁰O highway I travel! O public road! do you say to  
 me, Do not leave me? Do you say, Venture not? If you leave me, you are  
 lost? Do you say, I am already prepared—I am well-beaten  
 and undenied—adhere to me? ¹¹O public road! I say back, I am not afraid to leave  
 you—yet I love you, 27*   [ begin page 318 ]ppp.01500.326.jpg You express me better than I can express myself, You shall be more to me than my poem. ¹²I think heroic deeds were all conceived in the open  
 air, I think I could stop here myself, and do miracles, I think whatever I meet on the road I shall like, and  
 whoever beholds me shall like me, I think whoever I see must be happy. ¹³From this hour, freedom! From this hour I ordain myself loosed of limits and  
 imaginary lines, Going where I list—my own master, total and abso- 
 lute, Listening to others, and considering well what they  
 say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of  
 the holds that would hold me. ¹⁴I inhale great draughts of air, The east and the west are mine, and the north and  
 the south are mine. ¹⁵I am larger than I thought, I did not know I held so much goodness. ¹⁶All seems beautiful to me, I can repeat over to men and women, You have done  
 such good to me, I would do the same to you. ¹⁷I will recruit for myself and you as I go, I will scatter myself among men and women as I go,   [ begin page 319 ]ppp.01500.327.jpg I will toss the new gladness and roughness among  
 them; Whoever denies me, it shall not trouble me, Whoever accepts me, he or she shall be blessed, and  
 shall bless me. ¹⁸Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear, it  
 would not amaze me, Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appeared, 
 it would not astonish me. ¹⁹Now I see the secret of the making of the best  
 persons, It is to grow in the open air, and to eat and sleep  
 with the earth. ²⁰Here is space—here a great personal deed has room, A great deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race  
 of men, Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law, and  
 mocks all authority and all argument against it. ²¹Here is the test of wisdom, Wisdom is not finally tested in schools, Wisdom cannot be passed from one having it, to an- 
 other not having it, Wisdom is of the Soul, is not susceptible of proof, is  
 its own proof, Applies to all stages and objects and qualities, and is  
 content, Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of  
 things, and the excellence of things; Something there is in the float of the sight of things  
 that provokes it out of the Soul.   [ begin page 320 ]ppp.01500.328.jpg ²²Now I reëxamine philosophies and religions, They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove  
 at all under the spacious clouds, and along the  
 landscape and flowing currents. ²³Here is realization, Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he has  
 in him, The animals, the past, the future, light, space, 
 majesty, love, if they are vacant of you, you  
 are vacant of them. ²⁴Only the kernel of every object nourishes; Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me? Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for  
 you and me? ²⁵Here is adhesiveness—it is not previously fashioned  
 —it is apropos; Do you know what it is, as you pass, to be loved by  
 strangers? Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls? ²⁶Here is the efflux of the Soul, The efflux of the Soul comes through beautiful gates  
 of laws, provoking questions; These yearnings, why are they? These thoughts in  
 the darkness, why are they? Why are there men and women that while they are  
 nigh me, the sun-light expands my blood? Why, when they leave me, do my pennants of joy sink  
 flat and lank? Why are there trees I never walk under, but large and  
 melodious thoughts descend upon me?   [ begin page 321 ]ppp.01500.329.jpg (I think they hang there winter and summer on those  
 trees, and always drop fruit as I pass;) What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers? What with some driver, as I ride on the seat by his  
 side? What with some fisherman, drawing his seine by the  
 shore, as I walk by and pause? What gives me to be free to a woman's or man's good- 
 will? What gives them to be free to mine? ²⁷The efflux of the Soul is happiness—here is  
 happiness, I think it pervades the air, waiting at all times, Now it flows into us—we are rightly charged. ²⁸Here rises the fluid and attaching character; The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and  
 sweetness of man and woman, The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and  
 sweeter every day out of the roots of them- 
 selves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet contin- 
 ually out of itself. ²⁹Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the  
 sweat of the love of young and old, From it falls distilled the charm that mocks beauty  
 and attainments, Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of  
 contact. ³⁰Allons! Whoever you are, come travel with me! Travelling with me, you find what never tires.   [ begin page 322 ]ppp.01500.330.jpg ³¹The earth never tires, The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first— 
 Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first; Be not discouraged—keep on—there are divine  
 things, well enveloped, I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful  
 than words can tell. ³²Allons! We must not stop here! However sweet these laid-up stores—however con- 
 venient this dwelling, we cannot remain here, However sheltered this port, and however calm these  
 waters, we must not anchor here, However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us, 
 we are permitted to receive it but a little while. ³³Allons! The inducements shall be great to you; We will sail pathless and wild seas; We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the  
 Yankee clipper speeds by under full sail. ³⁴Allons! With power, liberty, the earth, the elements! Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity; Allons! from all formules! From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic  
 priests! ³⁵The stale cadaver blocks up the passage—the burial  
 waits no longer. ³⁶Allons! Yet take warning! He travelling with me needs the best blood, thews, 
 endurance,   [ begin page 323 ]ppp.01500.331.jpg None may come to the trial, till he or she bring  
 courage and health. ³⁷Come not here if you have already spent the best of  
 yourself; Only those may come, who come in sweet and deter- 
 mined bodies, No diseased person—no rum-drinker or venereal  
 taint is permitted here. ³⁸I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, 
 rhymes, We convince by our presence. ³⁹Listen! I will be honest with you, I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough  
 new prizes, These are the days that must happen to you: ⁴⁰You shall not heap up what is called riches, You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn  
 or achieve, You but arrive at the city to which you were des- 
 tined—you hardly settle yourself to satisfaction, 
 before you are called by an irresistible call to  
 depart, You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mock- 
 ings of those who remain behind you, What beckonings of love you receive, you shall only  
 answer with passionate kisses of parting, You shall not allow the hold of those who spread  
 their reached hands toward you. ⁴¹Allons! After the GREAT COMPANIONS! and to belong  
 to them!   [ begin page 324 ]ppp.01500.332.jpg They too are on the road! they are the swift and  
 majestic men! they are the greatest women. ⁴²Over that which hindered them—over that which  
 retarded—passing impediments large or small, Committers of crimes, committers of many beautiful  
 virtues, Enjoyers of calms of seas, and storms of seas, Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of  
 land, Habitues of many different countries, habitues of far- 
 distant dwellings, Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, soli- 
 tary toilers, Pausers and contemplaters of tufts, blossoms, shells of  
 the shore, Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender  
 helpers of children, bearers of children, Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lower- 
 ers down of coffins, Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years— 
 the curious years, each emerging from that which  
 preceded it, Journeyers as with companions, namely, their own  
 diverse phases, Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days, Journeyers gayly with their own youth—journeyers  
 with their bearded and well-grained manhood, Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsur- 
 passed, content, Journeyers with their sublime old age of manhood or  
 womanhood, Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty  
 breadth of the universe,   [ begin page 325 ]ppp.01500.333.jpg Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by free- 
 dom of death. ⁴³Allons! To that which is endless, as it was beginning- 
 less, To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights, To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days  
 and nights they tend to, Again to merge them in the start of superior jour- 
 neys; To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it  
 and pass it, To conceive no time, however distant, but what you  
 may reach it and pass it, To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits  
 for you—however long, but it stretches and waits  
 for you; To see no being, not God's or any, but you also go  
 thither, To see no possession but you may possess it—enjoy- 
 ing all without labor or purchase—abstracting  
 the feast, yet not abstracting one particle of it; To take the best of the farmer's farm and the rich  
 man's elegant villa, and the chaste blessings of  
 the well-married couple, and the fruits of or- 
 chards and flowers of gardens, To take to your use out of the compact cities as you  
 pass through, To carry buildings and streets with you afterward  
 wherever you go, To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you  
 encounter them—to gather the love out of their  
 hearts, 28   [ begin page 326 ]ppp.01500.334.jpg To take your own lovers on the road with you, for all  
 that you leave them behind you, To know the universe itself as a road—as many  
 roads—as roads for travelling Souls. ⁴⁴The Soul travels, The body does not travel as much as the Soul, The body has just as great a work as the Soul, and  
 parts away at last for the journeys of the Soul. ⁴⁵All parts away for the progress of Souls, All religion, all solid things, arts, governments—all  
 that was or is apparent upon this globe or any  
 globe, falls into niches and corners before the  
 procession of Souls along the grand roads of the  
 universe. ⁴⁶Of the progress of the Souls of men and women along  
 the grand roads of the universe, all other prog- 
 ress is the needed emblem and sustenance. ⁴⁷Forever alive, forever forward, Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbu- 
 lent, feeble, dissatisfied, Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, re- 
 jected by men, They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know  
 not where they go, But I know that they go toward the best—toward  
 something great. ⁴⁸Allons! Whoever you are! come forth! You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the  
 house, though you built it, or though it has been  
 built for you.   [ begin page 327 ]ppp.01500.335.jpg ⁴⁹Allons! out of the dark confinement! It is useless to protest—I know all, and expose it. ⁵⁰Behold, through you as bad as the rest, Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of  
 people, Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those  
 washed and trimmed faces, Behold a secret silent loathing and despair. ⁵¹No husband, no wife, no friend, no lover, so trusted  
 as to hear the confession, Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking  
 and hiding it goes, open and above board it  
 goes, Formless and wordless through the streets of the  
 cities, polite and bland in the parlors, In the cars of rail-roads, in steam-boats, in the public  
 assembly, Home to the houses of men and women, among their  
 families, at the table, in the bed-room, every- 
 where, Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, 
 death under the breast-bones, hell under the  
 skull-bones, Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons  
 and artificial flowers, Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable  
 of itself, Speaking of anything else, but never of itself. ⁵²Allons! Through struggles and wars! The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.   [ begin page 328 ]ppp.01500.336.jpg ⁵³Have the past struggles succeeded? What has succeeded? Yourself? Your nation? 
 Nature? Now understand me well—It is provided in the  
 essence of things, that from any fruition of suc- 
 cess, no matter what, shall come forth something  
 to make a greater struggle necessary. ⁵⁴My call is the call of battle—I nourish active re- 
 bellion, He going with me must go well armed, He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, 
 angry enemies, desertions. ⁵⁵Allons! The road is before us! It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried  
 it well. ⁵⁶Allons! Be not detained! Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the  
 book on the shelf unopened! Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money  
 remain unearned! Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher! Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer  
 plead in the court, and the judge expound the  
 law. ⁵⁷Mon enfant! I give you my hand! I give you my love, more precious than money, I give you myself, before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself? Will you come travel  
 with me? Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?   [ begin page 329 ]ppp.01500.337.jpg

TO THE SAYERS OF WORDS.

¹EARTH, round, rolling, compact —suns, moons, ani- 
 mals—all these are words to be said, Watery, vegetable, sauroid advances—beings, pre- 
 monitions, lispings of the future, Behold! these are vast words to be said. ²Were you thinking that those were the words—those  
 upright lines? those curves, angles, dots? No, those are not the words—the substantial words  
 are in the ground and sea, They are in the air—they are in you. ³Were you thinking that those were the words— 
 those delicious sounds out of your friends' 
 mouths? No, the real words are more delicious than they. ⁴Human bodies are words, myriads of words, In the best poems re-appears the body, man's or  
 woman's, well-shaped, natural, gay, Every part able, active, receptive, without shame or  
 the need of shame. 28*   [ begin page 330 ]ppp.01500.338.jpg ⁵Air, soil, water, fire, these are words, I myself am a word with them—my qualities inter- 
 penetrate with theirs—my name is nothing to  
 them, Though it were told in the three thousand languages, 
 what would air, soil, water, fire, know of my  
 name? ⁶A healthy presence, a friendly or commanding ges- 
 ture, are words, sayings, meanings, The charms that go with the mere looks of some men  
 and women, are sayings and meanings also. ⁷The workmanship of Souls is by the inaudible words  
 of the earth, The great masters, the sayers, know the earth's words, 
 and use them more than the audible words. ⁸Amelioration is one of the earth's words, The earth neither lags nor hastens, It has all attributes, growths, effects, latent in itself  
 from the jump, It is not half beautiful only—defects and excres- 
 cences show just as much as perfections show. ⁹The earth does not withhold, it is generous enough, The truths of the earth continually wait, they are  
 not so concealed either, They are calm, subtle, untransmissible by print, They are imbued through all things, conveying them- 
 selves willingly, Conveying a sentiment and invitation of the earth— 
 I utter and utter,   [ begin page 331 ]ppp.01500.339.jpg I speak not, yet if you hear me not, of what avail am  
 I to you? To bear—to better—lacking these, of what avail  
 am I? ¹⁰Accouche! Accouchez! Will you rot your own fruit in yourself there? Will you squat and stifle there? ¹¹The earth does not argue, Is not pathetic, has no arrangements, Does not scream, haste, persuade, threaten, promise, Makes no discriminations, has no conceivable fail- 
 ures, Closes nothing, refuses nothing, shuts none out, Of all the powers, objects, states, it notifies, shuts  
 none out. ¹²The earth does not exhibit itself, nor refuse to exhibit  
 itself—possesses still underneath, Underneath the ostensible sounds, the august chorus  
 of heroes, the wail of slaves, Persuasions of lovers, curses, gasps of the dying, 
 laughter of young people, accents of bargainers, Underneath these, possessing the words that never  
 fail. ¹³To her children, the words of the eloquent dumb  
 great mother never fail, The true words do not fail, for motion does not fail, 
 and reflection does not fail, Also the day and night do not fail, and the voyage  
 we pursue does not fail.   [ begin page 332 ]ppp.01500.340.jpg ¹⁴Of the interminable sisters, Of the ceaseless cotillions of sisters, Of the centripetal and centrifugal sisters, the elder  
 and younger sisters, The beautiful sister we know dances on with the rest. ¹⁵With her ample back toward every beholder, With the fascinations of youth, and the equal fascina- 
 tions of age, Sits she whom I too love like the rest—sits undis- 
 turbed, Holding up in her hand what has the character of a  
 mirror, while her eyes glance back from it, Glance as she sits, inviting none, denying none, Holding a mirror day and night tirelessly before her  
 own face. ¹⁶Seen at hand, or seen at a distance, Duly the twenty-four appear in public every day, Duly approach and pass with their companions, or  
 a companion, Looking from no countenances of their own, but from  
 the countenances of those who are with them, From the countenances of children or women, or the  
 manly countenance, From the open countenances of animals, or from  
 inanimate things, From the landscape or waters, or from the exquisite  
 apparition of the sky, From our countenances, mine and yours, faithfully  
 returning them, Every day in public appearing without fail, but never  
 twice with the same companions.   [ begin page 333 ]ppp.01500.341.jpg ¹⁷Embracing man, embracing all, proceed the three  
 hundred and sixty-five resistlessly round the sun, Embracing all, soothing, supporting, follow close three  
 hundred and sixty-five offsets of the first, sure  
 and necessary as they. ¹⁸Tumbling on steadily, nothing dreading, Sunshine, storm, cold, heat, forever withstanding, 
 passing, carrying, The Soul's realization and determination still inherit- 
 ing, The fluid vacuum around and ahead still entering  
 and dividing, No balk retarding, no anchor anchoring, on no rock  
 striking, Swift, glad, content, unbereaved, nothing losing, Of all able and ready at any time to give strict  
 account, The divine ship sails the divine sea. ¹⁹Whoever you are! motion and reflection are espe- 
 cially for you, The divine ship sails the divine sea for you. ²⁰Whoever you are! you are he or she for whom the  
 earth is solid and liquid, You are he or she for whom the sun and moon hang  
 in the sky, For none more than you are the present and the past, For none more than you is immortality. ²¹Each man to himself, and each woman to herself, is  
 the word of the past and present, and the word  
 of immortality,   [ begin page 334 ]ppp.01500.342.jpg No one can acquire for another—not one! Not one can grow for another—not one! ²²The song is to the singer, and comes back most to  
 him, The teaching is to the teacher, and comes back most  
 to him, The murder is to the murderer, and comes back most  
 to him, The theft is to the thief, and comes back most to him, The love is to the lover, and comes back most to him, The gift is to the giver, and comes back most to him  
 —it cannot fail, The oration is to the orator, and the acting is to the  
 actor and actress, not to the audience, And no man understands any greatness or goodness  
 but his own, or the indication of his own. ²³I swear the earth shall surely be complete to him or  
 her who shall be complete! I swear the earth remains broken and jagged only to  
 him or her who remains broken and jagged! ²⁴I swear there is no greatness or power that does not  
 emulate those of the earth! I swear there can be no theory of any account, unless  
 it corroborate the theory of the earth! No politics, art, religion, behavior, or what not, is of  
 account, unless it compare with the amplitude of  
 the earth, Unless it face the exactness, vitality, impartiality, 
 rectitude of the earth. ²⁵I swear I begin to see love with sweeter spasms than  
 that which responds love!   [ begin page 335 ]ppp.01500.343.jpg It is that which contains itself, which never invites  
 and never refuses. ²⁶I swear I begin to see little or nothing in audible  
 words! I swear I think all merges toward the presentation of  
 the unspoken meanings of the earth! Toward him who sings the songs of the body, and of  
 the truths of the earth, Toward him who makes the dictionaries of the words  
 that print cannot touch. ²⁷I swear I see what is better than to tell the best, It is always to leave the best untold. ²⁸When I undertake to tell the best, I find I cannot, My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots, My breath will not be obedient to its organs, I become a dumb man. ²⁹The best of the earth cannot be told anyhow—all or  
 any is best, It is not what you anticipated—it is cheaper, easier, 
 nearer, Things are not dismissed from the places they held  
 before, The earth is just as positive and direct as it was  
 before, Facts, religions, improvements, politics, trades, are as  
 real as before, But the Soul is also real,—it too is positive and  
 direct, No reasoning, no proof has established it, Undeniable growth has established it.   [ begin page 336 ]ppp.01500.344.jpg ³⁰This is a poem for the sayers of words—these are  
 hints of meanings, These are they that echo the tones of Souls, and the  
 phrases of Souls; If they did not echo the phrases of Souls, what were  
 they then? If they had not reference to you in especial, what were  
 they then? ³¹I swear I will never henceforth have to do with the  
 faith that tells the best! I will have to do with that faith only that leaves the  
 best untold. ³²Say on, sayers! Delve! mould! pile the words of the earth! Work on—it is materials you bring, not breaths; Work on, age after age! nothing is to be lost, It may have to wait long, but it will certainly come  
 in use, When the materials are all prepared, the architects  
 shall appear. ³³I swear to you the architects shall appear without fail! 
 I announce them and lead them, I swear to you they will understand you and justify  
 you, I swear to you the greatest among them shall be he  
 who best knows you, and encloses all, and is  
 faithful to all, I swear to you, he and the rest shall not forget you  
 —they shall perceive that you are not an iota  
 less than they, I swear to you, you shall be glorified in them.   [ begin page 337 ]ppp.01500.345.jpg

A BOSTON BALLAD,  
  The 78th Year of These States.

¹CLEAR the way there, Jonathan! Way for the President's marshal! Way for the gov- 
 ernment cannon! Way for the federal foot and dragoons—and the appa- 
 ritions copiously tumbling. ²I rose this morning early, to get betimes in Boston  
 town, Here's a good place at the corner, I must stand and  
 see the show. ³I love to look on the stars and stripes, I hope the fifes  
 will play Yankee Doodle. ⁴How bright shine the cutlasses of the foremost troops! Every man holds his revolver, marching stiff through  
 Boston town. ⁵A fog follows—antiques of the same come limping, Some appear wooden-legged, and some appear ban- 
 daged and bloodless. 29   [ begin page 338 ]ppp.01500.346.jpg ⁶Why this is a show! It has called the dead out of  
 the earth! The old grave-yards of the hills have hurried to  
 see! Uncountable phantoms gather by flank and rear  
 of it! Cocked hats of mothy mould! crutches made of  
 mist! Arms in slings! old men leaning on young men's  
 shoulders! ⁷What troubles you, Yankee phantoms? What is all  
 this chattering of bare gums? Does the ague convulse your limbs? Do you mis- 
 take your crutches for fire-locks, and level  
 them? ⁸If you blind your eyes with tears, you will not see  
 the President's marshal, If you groan such groans you might balk the govern- 
 ment cannon. ⁹For shame, old maniacs! Bring down those tossed  
 arms, and let your white hair be, Here gape your smart grand-sons—their wives gaze  
 at them from the windows, See how well-dressed—see how orderly they conduct  
 themselves. ¹⁰Worse and worse! Can't you stand it! Are you  
 retreating! Is this hour with the living too dead for you?   [ begin page 339 ]ppp.01500.347.jpg ¹¹Retreat then! Pell-mell! Back to your graves! Back to the hills, old  
 limpers! I do not think you belong here, anyhow. ¹²But there is one thing that belongs here—shall I tell  
 you what it is, gentlemen of Boston? ¹³I will whisper it to the Mayor—he shall send a com- 
 mittee to England, They shall get a grant from the Parliament, go with a  
 cart to the royal vault—haste! Dig out King George's coffin, unwrap him quick  
 from the grave-clothes, box up his bones for a  
 journey, Find a swift Yankee clipper—here is freight for you, 
 black-bellied clipper, Up with your anchor! shake out your sails! steer  
 straight toward Boston bay. ¹⁴Now call for the President's marshal again, bring out  
 the government cannon, Fetch home the roarers from Congress, make an- 
 other procession, guard it with foot and dra- 
 goons. ¹⁵This centre-piece for them: Look! all orderly citizens—look from the windows, 
 women! ¹⁶The committee open the box, set up the regal ribs, 
 glue those that will not stay,   [ begin page 340 ]ppp.01500.348.jpg Clap the skull on top of the ribs, and clap a crown on  
 top of the skull. ¹⁷You have got your revenge, old buster! The crown is  
 come to its own, and more than its own. ¹⁸Stick your hands in your pockets, Jonathan—you  
 are a made man from this day, You are mighty cute—and here is one of your  
 bargains.   [ begin page 341 ]ppp.01500.349.jpg

CALAMUS.

1.

IN paths untrodden, In the growth by margins of pond-waters, Escaped from the life that exhibits itself, From all the standards hitherto published—from  
 the pleasures, profits, conformities, Which too long I was offering to feed to my Soul Clear to me now, standards not yet published— 
 clear to me that my Soul, That the Soul of the man I speak for, feeds, rejoices  
 only in comrades; Here, by myself, away from the clank of the world, Tallying and talked to here by tongues aromatic, No longer abashed—for in this secluded spot I can  
 respond as I would not dare elsewhere, Strong upon me the life that does not exhibit itself, 
 yet contains all the rest, Resolved to sing no songs to-day but those of manly  
 attachment, Projecting them along that substantial life, Bequeathing, hence, types of athletic love, 29*   [ begin page 342 ]ppp.01500.350.jpg Afternoon, this delicious Ninth Month, in my forty- 
 first year, I proceed, for all who are, or have been, young  
 men, To tell the secret of my nights and days, To celebrate the need of comrades.

2.

SCENTED herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I yield, I write, to be perused best  
 afterwards, Tomb-leaves, body-leaves, growing up above me, above  
 death, Perennial roots, tall leaves—O the winter shall not  
 freeze you, delicate leaves, Every year shall you bloom again—Out from where  
 you retired, you shall emerge again; O I do not know whether many, passing by, will dis- 
 cover you, or inhale your faint odor—but I  
 believe a few will; O slender leaves! O blossoms of my blood! I permit  
 you to tell, in your own way, of the heart that is  
 under you, O burning and throbbing—surely all will one day be  
 accomplished; O I do not know what you mean, there underneath  
 yourselves—you are not happiness, You are often more bitter than I can bear—you burn  
 and sting me,   [ begin page 343 ]ppp.01500.351.jpg Yet you are very beautiful to me, you faint-tinged  
 roots—you make me think of Death, Death is beautiful from you—(what indeed is beau- 
 tiful, except Death and Love?) O I think it is not for life I am chanting here my  
 chant of lovers—I think it must be for Death, For how calm, how solemn it grows, to ascend to the  
 atmosphere of lovers, Death or life I am then indifferent—my Soul de- 
 clines to prefer, I am not sure but the high Soul of lovers welcomes  
 death most; Indeed, O Death, I think now these leaves mean pre- 
 cisely the same as you mean; Grow up taller, sweet leaves, that I may see! Grow  
 up out of my breast! Spring away from the concealed heart there! Do not fold yourselves so in your pink-tinged roots, 
 timid leaves! Do not remain down there so ashamed, herbage of my  
 breast! Come, I am determined to unbare this broad breast of  
 mine—I have long enough stifled and choked; Emblematic and capricious blades, I leave you—now  
 you serve me not, Away! I will say what I have to say, by itself, I will escape from the sham that was proposed to me, I will sound myself and comrades only—I will never  
 again utter a call, only their call, I will raise, with it, immortal reverberations through  
 The States, I will give an example to lovers, to take permanent  
 shape and will through The States;   [ begin page 344 ]ppp.01500.352.jpg Through me shall the words be said to make death  
 exhilarating, Give me your tone therefore, O Death, that I may  
 accord with it, Give me yourself—for I see that you belong to me  
 now above all, and are folded together above all  
 —you Love and Death are, Nor will I allow you to balk me any more with what  
 I was calling life, For now it is conveyed to me that you are the pur- 
 ports essential, That you hide in these shifting forms of life, for  
 reasons—and that they are mainly for you, That you, beyond them, come forth, to remain, the  
 real reality, That behind the mask of materials you patiently  
 wait, no matter how long, That you will one day, perhaps, take control of all, That you will perhaps dissipate this entire show of  
 appearance, That may be you are what it is all for—but it does  
 not last so very long, But you will last very long.

3.

¹WHOEVER you are holding me now in hand, Without one thing all will be useless, I give you fair warning, before you attempt me  
 further, I am not what you supposed, but far different.   [ begin page 345 ]ppp.01500.353.jpg ²Who is he that would become my follower? Who would sign himself a candidate for my affec- 
 tions? Are you he? ³The way is suspicious—the result slow, uncertain,  
 may-be destructive; You would have to give up all else—I alone would  
 expect to be your God, sole and exclusive, Your novitiate would even then be long and ex- 
 hausting, The whole past theory of your life, and all conformity  
 to the lives around you, would have to be aban- 
 doned; Therefore release me now, before troubling yourself  
 any further—Let go your hand from my  
 shoulders, Put me down, and depart on your way. ⁴Or else, only by stealth, in some wood, for trial, Or back of a rock, in the open air, (For in any roofed room of a house I emerge not—  
 nor in company, And in libraries I lie as one dumb, a gawk, or unborn,  
 or dead,) But just possibly with you on a high hill—first  
 watching lest any person, for miles around,  
 approach unawares, Or possibly with you sailing at sea, or on the beach of  
 the sea, or some quiet island, Here to put your lips upon mine I permit you, With the comrade's long-dwelling kiss, or the new  
 husband's kiss, For I am the new husband, and I am the comrade.   [ begin page 346 ]ppp.01500.354.jpg ⁵Or, if you will, thrusting me beneath your clothing, Where I may feel the throbs of your heart, or rest  
 upon your hip, Carry me when you go forth over land or sea; For thus, merely touching you, is enough—is best, And thus, touching you, would I silently sleep and be  
 carried eternally. ⁶But these leaves conning, you con at peril, For these leaves, and me, you will not understand, They will elude you at first, and still more after- 
 ward—I will certainly elude you, Even while you should think you had unquestionably  
 caught me, behold! Already you see I have escaped from you. ⁷For it is not for what I have put into it that I have  
 written this book, Nor is it by reading it you will acquire it, Nor do those know me best who admire me, and  
 vauntingly praise me, Nor will the candidates for my love, (unless at most a  
 very few,) prove victorious, Nor will my poems do good only—they will do just  
 as much evil, perhaps more, For all is useless without that which you may guess  
 at many times and not hit—that which I  
 hinted at, Therefore release me, and depart on your way.   [ begin page 347 ]ppp.01500.355.jpg

4.

THESE I, singing in spring, collect for lovers, (For who but I should understand lovers, and all their  
 sorrow and joy? And who but I should be the poet of comrades?) Collecting, I traverse the garden, the world—but  
 soon I pass the gates, Now along the pond-side—now wading in a little, 
 fearing not the wet, Now by the post-and-rail fences, where the old stones  
 thrown there, picked from the fields, have accu- 
 mulated, Wild-flowers and vines and weeds come up through  
 the stones, and partly cover them—Beyond these  
 I pass, Far, far in the forest, before I think where I get, Solitary, smelling the earthy smell, stopping now and  
 then in the silence, Alone I had thought—yet soon a silent troop gathers  
 around me, Some walk by my side, and some behind, and some  
 embrace my arms or neck, They, the spirits of friends, dead or alive—thicker  
 they come, a great crowd, and I in the middle, Collecting, dispensing, singing in spring, there I wan- 
 der with them, Plucking something for tokens—something for these, 
 till I hit upon a name—tossing toward whoever  
 is near me,   [ begin page 348 ]ppp.01500.356.jpg Here! lilac, with a branch of pine, Here, out of my pocket, some moss which I pulled off  
 a live-oak in Florida, as it hung trailing down, Here, some pinks and laurel leaves, and a handful of  
 sage, And here what I now draw from the water, wading in  
 the pond-side, (O here I last saw him that tenderly loves me—and  
 returns again, never to separate from me, And this, O this shall henceforth be the token of  
 comrades—this calamus-root shall, Interchange it, youths, with each other! Let none  
 render it back!) And twigs of maple, and a bunch of wild orange, and  
 chestnut, And stems of currants, and plum-blows, and the  
 aromatic cedar; These I, compassed around by a thick cloud of  
 spirits, Wandering, point to, or touch as I pass, or throw them  
 loosely from me, Indicating to each one what he shall have—giving  
 something to each, But what I drew from the water by the pond-side, that  
 I reserve, I will give of it—but only to them that love, as I  
 myself am capable of loving.   [ begin page 349 ]ppp.01500.357.jpg

5.

¹STATES! Were you looking to be held together by the lawyers? By an agreement on a paper? Or by arms? ²Away! I arrive, bringing these, beyond all the forces of  
 courts and arms, These! to hold you together as firmly as the earth  
 itself is held together. ³The old breath of life, ever new, Here! I pass it by contact to you, America. ⁴O mother! have you done much for me? Behold, there shall from me be much done for you. ⁵There shall from me be a new friendship—It shall  
 be called after my name, It shall circulate through The States, indifferent of  
 place, It shall twist and intertwist them through and around  
 each other—Compact shall they be, showing  
 new signs, Affection shall solve every one of the problems of  
 freedom, Those who love each other shall be invincible, They shall finally make America completely victo- 
 rious, in my name. 30   [ begin page 350 ]ppp.01500.358.jpg ⁶One from Massachusetts shall be comrade to a Mis- 
 sourian, One from Maine or Vermont, and a Carolinian and  
 an Oregonese, shall be friends triune, more pre- 
 cious to each other than all the riches of the  
 earth. ⁷To Michigan shall be wafted perfume from Florida, To the Mannahatta from Cuba or Mexico, Not the perfume of flowers, but sweeter, and wafted  
 beyond death. ⁸No danger shall balk Columbia's lovers, If need be, a thousand shall sternly immolate them- 
 selves for one, The Kanuck shall be willing to lay down his life for  
 the Kansian, and the Kansian for the Kanuck,  
 on due need. ⁹It shall be customary in all directions, in the houses  
 and streets, to see manly affection, The departing brother or friend shall salute the re- 
 maining brother or friend with a kiss. ¹⁰There shall be innovations, There shall be countless linked hands—namely, the  
 Northeasterner's, and the Northwesterner's, and  
 the Southwesterner's, and those of the interior,  
 and all their brood, These shall be masters of the world under a new  
 power, They shall laugh to scorn the attacks of all the re- 
 mainder of the world.   [ begin page 351 ]ppp.01500.359.jpg ¹¹The most dauntless and rude shall touch face to face  
 lightly, The dependence of Liberty shall be lovers, The continuance of Equality shall be comrades. ¹²These shall tie and band stronger than hoops of iron, I, extatic, O partners! O lands! henceforth with the  
 love of lovers tie you. ¹³I will make the continent indissoluble, I will make the most splendid race the sun ever yet  
 shone upon, I will make divine magnetic lands. ¹⁴I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the  
 rivers of America, and along the shores of the  
 great lakes, and all over the prairies, I will make inseparable cities, with their arms about  
 each other's necks. ¹⁵For you these, from me, O Democracy, to serve you,  
 ma femme! For you! for you, I am trilling these songs.

6.

NOT heaving from my ribbed breast only, Not in sighs at night, in rage, dissatisfied with myself, Not in those long-drawn, ill-suppressed sighs, Not in many an oath and promise broken, Not in my wilful and savage soul's volition,   [ begin page 352 ]ppp.01500.360.jpg Not in the subtle nourishment of the air, Not in this beating and pounding at my temples and  
 wrists, Not in the curious systole and diastole within, which  
 will one day cease, Not in many a hungry wish, told to the skies only, Not in cries, laughter, defiances, thrown from me  
 when alone, far in the wilds, Not in husky pantings through clenched teeth, Not in sounded and resounded words—chattering  
 words, echoes, dead words, Not in the murmurs of my dreams while I sleep, Nor the other murmurs of these incredible dreams of  
 every day, Nor in the limbs and senses of my body, that take you  
 and dismiss you continually—Not there, Not in any or all of them, O adhesiveness! O pulse  
 of my life! Need I that you exist and show yourself, any more  
 than in these songs.

7.

OF the terrible question of appearances, Of the doubts, the uncertainties after all, That may-be reliance and hope are but speculations  
 after all, That may-be identity beyond the grave is a beautiful  
 fable only, May-be the things I perceive—the animals, plants, 
 men, hills, shining and flowing waters,   [ begin page 353 ]ppp.01500.361.jpg The skies of day and night—colors, densities, forms  
 —May-be these are, (as doubtless they are,) only  
 apparitions, and the real something has yet to be  
 known, (How often they dart out of themselves, as if to con- 
 found me and mock me! How often I think neither I know, nor any man  
 knows, aught of them;) May-be they only seem to me what they are, (as  
 doubtless they indeed but seem,) as from my  
 present point of view—And might prove, (as of  
 course they would,) naught of what they appear, 
 or naught any how, from entirely changed points  
 of view; To me, these, and the like of these, are curiously  
 answered by my lovers, my dear friends; When he whom I love travels with me, or sits a long  
 while holding me by the hand, When the subtle air, the impalpable, the sense that  
 words and reason hold not, surround us and  
 pervade us, Then I am charged with untold and untellable wis- 
 dom—I am silent—I require nothing further, I cannot answer the question of appearances, or that  
 of identity beyond the grave, But I walk or sit indifferent—I am satisfied, He ahold of my hand has completely satisfied me.   [ begin page 354 ]ppp.01500.362.jpg

8.

LONG I thought that knowledge alone would suffice  
 me—O if I could but obtain knowledge! Then my lands engrossed me—Lands of the prairies, 
 Ohio's land, the southern savannas, engrossed  
 me—For them I would live—I would be their  
 orator; Then I met the examples of old and new heroes—I  
 heard of warriors, sailors, and all dauntless per- 
 sons—And it seemed to me that I too had it  
 in me to be as dauntless as any—and would  
 be so; And then, to enclose all, it came to me to strike up  
 the songs of the New World—And then I be- 
 lieved my life must be spent in singing; But now take notice, land of the prairies, land of  
 the south savannas, Ohio's land, Take notice, you Kanuck woods—and you Lake  
 Huron—and all that with you roll toward  
 Niagara—and you Niagara also, And you, Californian mountains—That you each  
 and all find somebody else to be your singer of  
 songs, For I can be your singer of songs no longer—One  
 who loves me is jealous of me, and withdraws me  
 from all but love, With the rest I dispense—I sever from what I  
 thought would suffice me, for it does not—it is  
 now empty and tasteless to me, I heed knowledge, and the grandeur of The States, 
 and the example of heroes, no more,   [ begin page 355 ]ppp.01500.363.jpg I am indifferent to my own songs—I will go with  
 him I love, It is to be enough for us that we are together—We  
 never separate again.

9.

HOURS continuing long, sore and heavy-hearted, Hours of the dusk, when I withdraw to a lonesome  
 and unfrequented spot, seating myself, leaning  
 my face in my hands; Hours sleepless, deep in the night, when I go forth, 
 speeding swiftly the country roads, or through  
 the city streets, or pacing miles and miles, sti- 
 fling plaintive cries; Hours discouraged, distracted—for the one I cannot  
 content myself without, soon I saw him content  
 himself without me; Hours when I am forgotten, (O weeks and months are  
 passing, but I believe I am never to forget!) Sullen and suffering hours! (I am ashamed—but it  
 is useless—I am what I am;) Hours of my torment—I wonder if other men ever  
 have the like, out of the like feelings? Is there even one other like me—distracted—his  
 friend, his lover, lost to him? Is he too as I am now? Does he still rise in the morn- 
 ing, dejected, thinking who is lost to him? and  
 at night, awaking, think who is lost?   [ begin page 356 ]ppp.01500.364.jpg Does he too harbor his friendship silent and endless? 
 harbor his anguish and passion? Does some stray reminder, or the casual mention of a  
 name, bring the fit back upon him, taciturn and  
 deprest? Does he see himself reflected in me? In these hours, 
 does he see the face of his hours reflected?

10.

YOU bards of ages hence! when you refer to me, mind  
 not so much my poems, Nor speak of me that I prophesied of The States, and  
 led them the way of their glories; But come, I will take you down underneath this  
 impassive exterior—I will tell you what to say  
 of me: Publish my name and hang up my picture as that of  
 the tenderest lover, The friend, the lover's portrait, of whom his friend, his  
 lover, was fondest, Who was not proud of his songs, but of the measure- 
 less ocean of love within him—and freely poured  
 it forth, Who often walked lonesome walks, thinking of his  
 dear friends, his lovers, Who pensive, away from one he loved, often lay sleep- 
 less and dissatisfied at night, Who knew too well the sick, sick dread lest the one  
 he loved might secretly be indifferent to him,   [ begin page 357 ]ppp.01500.365.jpg Whose happiest days were far away, through fields, in  
 woods, on hills, he and another, wandering hand  
 in hand, they twain, apart from other men, Who oft as he sauntered the streets, curved with his  
 arm the shoulder of his friend—while the arm of  
 his friend rested upon him also.

11.

WHEN I heard at the close of the day how my name  
 had been received with plaudits in the capitol, 
 still it was not a happy night for me that fol- 
 lowed; And else, when I caroused, or when my plans were  
 accomplished, still I was not happy; But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of  
 perfect health, refreshed, singing, inhaling the  
 ripe breath of autumn, When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and  
 disappear in the morning light, When I wandered alone over the beach, and, undress- 
 ing, bathed, laughing with the cool waters, and  
 saw the sun rise, And when I thought how my dear friend, my lover, 
 was on his way coming, O then I was happy; O then each breath tasted sweeter—and all that day  
 my food nourished me more—And the beautiful  
 day passed well, And the next came with equal joy—And with the  
 next, at evening, came my friend;   [ begin page 358 ]ppp.01500.366.jpg And that night, while all was still, I heard the waters  
 roll slowly continually up the shores, I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands, 
 as directed to me, whispering, to congratulate  
 me, For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the  
 same cover in the cool night, In the stillness, in the autumn moonbeams, his face  
 was inclined toward me, And his arm lay lightly around my breast—And that  
 night I was happy.

12.

ARE you the new person drawn toward me, and asking  
 something significant from me? To begin with, take warning—I am probably far  
 different from what you suppose; Do you suppose you will find in me your ideal? Do you think it so easy to have me become your  
 lover? Do you think the friendship of me would be unalloyed  
 satisfaction? Do you suppose I am trusty and faithful? Do you see no further than this façade—this smooth  
 and tolerant manner of me? Do you suppose yourself advancing on real ground  
 toward a real heroic man? Have you no thought, O dreamer, that it may be all  
 maya, illusion? O the next step may precipitate  
 you!   [ begin page 359 ]ppp.01500.367.jpg O let some past deceived one hiss in your ears, how  
 many have prest on the same as you are pressing  
 now, How many have fondly supposed what you are sup- 
 posing now—only to be disappointed.

13.

CALAMUS taste, (For I must change the strain—these are not to be  
 pensive leaves, but leaves of joy,) Roots and leaves unlike any but themselves, Scents brought to men and women from the wild  
 woods, and from the pond-side, Breast-sorrel and pinks of love—fingers that wind  
 around tighter than vines, Gushes from the throats of birds, hid in the foliage  
 of trees, as the sun is risen, Breezes of land and love—Breezes set from living  
 shores out to you on the living sea—to you, 
 O sailors! Frost-mellowed berries, and Third Month twigs, of- 
 fered fresh to young persons wandering out in  
 the fields when the winter breaks up, Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever  
 you are, Buds to be unfolded on the old terms, If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they will  
 open, and bring form, color, perfume, to you, If you become the aliment and the wet, they will  
 become flowers, fruits, tall branches and trees,   [ begin page 360 ]ppp.01500.368.jpg They are comprised in you just as much as in them- 
 selves—perhaps more than in themselves, They are not comprised in one season or succession, 
 but many successions, They have come slowly up out of the earth and me, 
 and are to come slowly up out of you.

14.

NOT heat flames up and consumes, Not sea-waves hurry in and out, Not the air, delicious and dry, the air of the ripe  
 summer, bears lightly along white down-balls of  
 myriads of seeds, wafted, sailing gracefully, to  
 drop where they may, Not these—O none of these, more than the flames  
 of me, consuming, burning for his love whom I  
 love! O none, more than I, hurrying in and out; Does the tide hurry, seeking something, and never  
 give up? O I the same; O nor down-balls, nor perfumes, nor the high  
 rain-emitting clouds, are borne through the open  
 air, Any more than my Soul is borne through the open  
 air, Wafted in all directions, O love, for friendship, for  
 you.   [ begin page 361 ]ppp.01500.369.jpg

15.

O DROPS of me! trickle, slow drops, Candid, from me falling—drip, bleeding drops, From wounds made to free you whence you were  
 prisoned, From my face—from my forehead and lips, From my breast—from within where I was con- 
 cealed—Press forth, red drops—confession  
 drops, Stain every page—stain every song I sing, every  
 word I say, bloody drops, Let them know your scarlet heat—let them glisten, Saturate them with yourself, all ashamed and wet, Glow upon all I have written or shall write, bleed- 
 ing drops, Let it all be seen in your light, blushing drops.

16.

¹WHO is now reading this? ²May-be one is now reading this who knows some  
 wrong-doing of my past life, Or may-be a stranger is reading this who has secretly  
 loved me, Or may-be one who meets all my grand assumptions  
 and egotisms with derision, Or may-be one who is puzzled at me. 31   [ begin page 362 ]ppp.01500.370.jpg ³As if I were not puzzled at myself! Or as if I never deride myself! (O conscience-struck!  
 O self-convicted!) Or as if I do not secretly love strangers! (O tenderly,  
 a long time, and never avow it;) Or as if I did not see, perfectly well, interior in  
 myself, the stuff of wrong-doing, Or as if it could cease transpiring from me until it  
 must cease.

17.

OF him I love day and night, I dreamed I heard he  
 was dead, And I dreamed I went where they had buried him I  
 love—but he was not in that place, And I dreamed I wandered, searching among burial- 
 places, to find him, And I found that every place was a burial-place, The houses full of life were equally full of death, 
 (This house is now,) The streets, the shipping, the places of amusement, 
 the Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia, the Manna- 
 hatta, were as full of the dead as of the living, And fuller, O vastly fuller, of the dead than of the  
 living; —And what I dreamed I will henceforth tell to every  
 person and age, And I stand henceforth bound to what I dreamed; And now I am willing to disregard burial-places, and  
 dispense with them,   [ begin page 363 ]ppp.01500.371.jpg And if the memorials of the dead were put up indif- 
 ferently everywhere, even in the room where I  
 eat or sleep, I should be satisfied, And if the corpse of any one I love, or if my own  
 corpse, be duly rendered to powder, and poured  
 in the sea, I shall be satisfied, Or if it be distributed to the winds, I shall be sat- 
 isfied.

18.

CITY of my walks and joys! City whom that I have lived and sung there will one  
 day make you illustrious, Not the pageants of you—not your shifting tab- 
 leaux, your spectacles, repay me, Not the interminable rows of your houses—nor the  
 ships at the wharves, Nor the processions in the streets, nor the bright win- 
 dows, with goods in them, Nor to converse with learned persons, or bear my  
 share in the soiree or feast; Not those—but, as I pass, O Manhattan! your fre- 
 quent and swift flash of eyes offering me love, Offering me the response of my own—these repay  
 me, Lovers, continual lovers, only repay me.   [ begin page 364 ]ppp.01500.372.jpg

19.

¹MIND you the timid models of the rest, the  
 majority? Long I minded them, but hence I will not—for I  
 have adopted models for myself, and now offer  
 them to The Lands. ²Behold this swarthy and unrefined face—these gray  
 eyes, This beard—the white wool, unclipt upon my neck, My brown hands, and the silent manner of me, with- 
 out charm; Yet comes one, a Manhattanese, and ever at parting,  
 kisses me lightly on the lips with robust love, And I, in the public room, or on the crossing of the  
 street, or on the ship's deck, kiss him in return; We observe that salute of American comrades, land  
 and sea, We are those two natural and nonchalant persons.

20.

I SAW in Louisiana a live-oak growing, All alone stood it, and the moss hung down from the  
 branches, Without any companion it grew there, uttering joyous  
 leaves of dark green, And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think  
 of myself,   [ begin page 365 ]ppp.01500.373.jpg But I wondered how it could utter joyous leaves, 
 standing alone there, without its friend, its  
 lover near—for I knew I could not, And I broke off a twig with a certain number of  
 leaves upon it, and twined around it a little  
 moss, And brought it away—and I have placed it in sight  
 in my room, It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear  
 friends, (For I believe lately I think of little else than of  
 them,) Yet it remains to me a curious token—it makes me  
 think of manly love; For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there in  
 Louisiana, solitary, in a wide flat space, Uttering joyous leaves all its life, without a friend, a  
 lover, near, I know very well I could not.

21.

MUSIC always round me, unceasing, unbeginning— 
 yet long untaught I did not hear, But now the chorus I hear, and am elated, A tenor, strong, ascending, with power and health, 
 with glad notes of day-break I hear, A soprano, at intervals, sailing buoyantly over the  
 tops of immense waves, A transparent base, shuddering lusciously under and  
 through the universe, 31*   [ begin page 366 ]ppp.01500.374.jpg The triumphant tutti—the funeral wailings, with  
 sweet flutes and violins—All these I fill myself  
 with; I hear not the volumes of sound merely—I am  
 moved by the exquisite meanings, I listen to the different voices winding in and out, 
 striving, contending with fiery vehemence to  
 excel each other in emotion, I do not think the performers know themselves—But  
 now I think I begin to know them.

22.

PASSING stranger! you do not know how longingly I  
 look upon you, You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, 
 (It comes to me, as of a dream,) I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with  
 you, All is recalled as we flit by each other, fluid, affec- 
 tionate, chaste, matured, You grew up with me, were a boy with me, or a girl  
 with me, I ate with you, and slept with you—your body has  
 become not yours only, nor left my body mine  
 only, You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as  
 we pass—you take of my beard, breast, hands, 
 in return, I am not to speak to you—I am to think of you  
 when I sit alone, or wake at night alone,   [ begin page 367 ]ppp.01500.375.jpg I am to wait—I do not doubt I am to meet you  
 again, I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

23.

THIS moment as I sit alone, yearning and thoughtful, 
 it seems to me there are other men in other  
 lands, yearning and thoughtful; It seems to me I can look over and behold them, 
 in Germany, Italy, France, Spain—Or far, far  
 away, in China, or in Russia or India—talking  
 other dialects; And it seems to me if I could know those men better, 
 I should become attached to them, as I do to men  
 in my own lands, It seems to me they are as wise, beautiful, benevolent, 
 as any in my own lands; O I know we should be brethren and lovers, I know I should be happy with them.

24.

I HEAR it is charged against me that I seek to destroy  
 institutions; But really I am neither for nor against institutions, (What indeed have I in common with them?—Or  
 what with the destruction of them?)   [ begin page 368 ]ppp.01500.376.jpg Only I will establish in the Mannahatta, and in every  
 city of These States, inland and seaboard, And in the fields and woods, and above every keel  
 little or large, that dents the water, Without edifices, or rules, or trustees, or any ar- 
 gument, The institution of the dear love of comrades.

25.

THE prairie-grass dividing—its own odor breathing, I demand of it the spiritual corresponding, Demand the most copious and close companionship  
 of men, Demand the blades to rise of words, acts, beings, Those of the open atmosphere, coarse, sunlit, fresh, 
 nutritious, Those that go their own gait, erect, stepping with  
 freedom and command—leading, not following, Those with a never-quell'd audacity—those with  
 sweet and lusty flesh, clear of taint, choice and  
 chary of its love-power, Those that look carelessly in the faces of Presidents  
 and Governors, as to say, Who are you? Those of earth-born passion, simple, never constrained, 
 never obedient, Those of inland America.   [ begin page 369 ]ppp.01500.377.jpg

26.

WE two boys together clinging, One the other never leaving, Up and down the roads going—North and South  
 excursions making, Power enjoying—elbows stretching—fingers clutch- 
 ing, Armed and fearless—eating, drinking, sleeping, lov- 
 ing, No law less than ourselves owning—sailing, soldier- 
 ing, thieving, threatening, Misers, menials, priests alarming—air breathing, 
 water drinking, on the turf or the sea-beach  
 dancing, With birds singing—With fishes swimming—With  
 trees branching and leafing, Cities wrenching, ease scorning, statutes mocking, 
 feebleness chasing, Fulfilling our foray.

27.

O LOVE! O dying—always dying! O the burials of me, past and present! O me, while I stride ahead, material, visible, imperi- 
 ous as ever!   [ begin page 370 ]ppp.01500.378.jpg O me, what I was for years, now dead, (I lament not  
 —I am content;), O to disengage myself from those corpses of me, 
 which I turn and look at, where I cast them! To pass on, (O living! always living!) and leave the  
 corpses behind!

28.

WHEN I peruse the conquered fame of heroes, and the  
 victories of mighty generals, I do not envy the  
 generals, Nor the President in his Presidency, nor the rich in  
 his great house; But when I read of the brotherhood of lovers, how it  
 was with them, How through life, through dangers, odium, un- 
 changing, long and long, Through youth, and through middle and old age, how  
 unfaltering, how affectionate and faithful they  
 were, Then I am pensive—I hastily put down the book, 
 and walk away, filled with the bitterest envy.   [ begin page 371 ]ppp.01500.379.jpg

29.

ONE flitting glimpse, caught through an interstice, Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room, 
 around the stove, late of a winter night—And  
 I unremarked, seated in a corner; Of a youth who loves me, and whom I love, silently  
 approaching, and seating himself near, that he  
 may hold me by the hand; A long while, amid the noises of coming and going  
 —of drinking and oath and smutty jest, There we two, content, happy in being together, 
 speaking little, perhaps not a word.

30.

A PROMISE and gift to California, Also to the great Pastoral Plains, and for Oregon: Sojourning east a while longer, soon I travel to you, 
 to remain, to teach robust American love; For I know very well that I and robust love belong  
 among you, inland, and along the Western  
 Sea, For These States tend inland, and toward the Western  
 Sea—and I will also.   [ begin page 372 ]ppp.01500.380.jpg

31.

¹WHAT ship, puzzled at sea, cons for the true reck- 
 oning? Or, coming in, to avoid the bars, and follow the chan- 
 nel, a perfect pilot needs? Here, sailor! Here, ship! take aboard the most per- 
 fect pilot, Whom, in a little boat, putting off, and rowing, I,  
 hailing you, offer. ²What place is besieged, and vainly tries to raise the  
 siege? Lo! I send to that place a commander, swift, brave,  
 immortal, And with him horse and foot—and parks of artillery, And artillerymen, the deadliest that ever fired gun.

32.

WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record? The battle-ship, perfect-model'd, majestic, that I saw  
 pass the offing to-day under full sail? The splendors of the past day? Or the splendor of the  
 night that envelops me? Or the vaunted glory and growth of the great city  
 spread around me?—No; But I record of two simple men I saw to-day, on the  
 pier, in the midst of the crowd, parting the part- 
 ing of dear friends,   [ begin page 373 ]ppp.01500.381.jpg The one to remain hung on the other's neck, and pas- 
 sionately kissed him, While the one to depart, tightly prest the one to  
 remain in his arms.

33.

NO labor-saving machine, Nor discovery have I made, Nor will I be able to leave behind me any wealthy  
 bequest to found a hospital or library, Nor reminiscence of any deed of courage, for America, Nor literary success, nor intellect—nor book for the  
 book-shelf; Only these carols, vibrating through the air, I leave, For comrades and lovers.

34.

I DREAMED in a dream, I saw a city invincible to the  
 attacks of the whole of the rest of the earth, I dreamed that was the new City of Friends, Nothing was greater there than the quality of robust  
 love—it led the rest, It was seen every hour in the actions of the men of  
 that city, And in all their looks and words. 32   [ begin page 374 ]ppp.01500.382.jpg

35.

TO you of New England, To the man of the Seaside State, and of Pennsylvania, To the Kanadian of the north—to the Southerner I  
 love, These, with perfect trust, to depict you as myself— 
 the germs are in all men; I believe the main purport of These States is to found  
 a superb friendship, exalté, previously unknown, Because I perceive it waits, and has been always wait- 
 ing, latent in all men.

36.

EARTH! my likeness! Though you look so impassive, ample and spheric  
 there, I now suspect that is not all; I now suspect there is something fierce in you, eligible  
 to burst forth; For an athlete is enamoured of me—and I of him, But toward him there is something fierce and terrible  
 in me, eligible to burst forth, I dare not tell it in words—not even in these songs.   [ begin page 375 ]ppp.01500.383.jpg

37.

A LEAF for hand in hand! You natural persons old and young! You on the  
 Eastern Sea, and you on the Western! You on the Mississippi, and on all the branches and  
 bayous of the Mississippi! You friendly boatmen and mechanics! You roughs! You twain! And all processions moving along the  
 streets! I wish to infuse myself among you till I see it com- 
 mon for you to walk hand in hand.

38.

PRIMEVAL my love for the woman I love, O bride ! O wife ! more resistless, more enduring  
 than I can tell, the thought of you ! Then separate, as disembodied, the purest born, The ethereal, the last athletic reality, my consolation, I ascend—I float in the regions of your love, O man, O sharer of my roving life.

39.

SOMETIMES with one I love, I fill myself with rage, for  
 fear I effuse unreturned love; But now I think there is no unreturned love—the  
 pay is certain, one way or another,   [ begin page 376 ]ppp.01500.384.jpg Doubtless I could not have perceived the universe, 
 or written one of my poems, if I had not freely  
 given myself to comrades, to love.

40.

THAT shadow, my likeness, that goes to and fro, seek- 
 ing a livelihood, chattering, chaffering, How often I find myself standing and looking at it  
 where it flits, How often I question and doubt whether that is really  
 me; But in these, and among my lovers, and carolling my  
 songs, O I never doubt whether that is really me.

41.

¹AMONG the men and women, the multitude, I per- 
 ceive one picking me out by secret and divine  
 signs, Acknowledging none else—not parent, wife, hus- 
 band, brother, child, any nearer than I am; Some are baffled—But that one is not—that one  
 knows me. ²Lover and perfect equal! I meant that you should discover me so, by my faint  
 indirections, And I, when I meet you, mean to discover you by the  
 like in you.   [ begin page 377 ]ppp.01500.385.jpg

42.

TO the young man, many things to absorb, to engraft, 
 to develop, I teach, to help him become élève of  
 mine, But if blood like mine circle not in his veins, If he be not silently selected by lovers, and do not  
 silently select lovers, Of what use is it that he seek to become élève of  
 mine?

43.

O YOU whom I often and silently come where you  
 are, that I may be with you, As I walk by your side, or sit near, or remain in the  
 same room with you, Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your  
 sake is playing within me.

44.

HERE my last words, and the most baffling, Here the frailest leaves of me, and yet my strongest- 
 lasting, Here I shade down and hide my thoughts—I do not  
 expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my other  
 poems. 32*   [ begin page 378 ]ppp.01500.386.jpg

45.

¹FULL of life, sweet-blooded, compact, visible, I, forty years old the Eighty-third Year of The States, To one a century hence, or any number of centuries  
 hence, To you, yet unborn, these, seeking you. ²When you read these, I, that was visible, am become  
 invisible; Now it is you, compact, visible, realizing my poems,  
 seeking me, Fancying how happy you were, if I could be with  
 you, and become your lover; Be it as if I were with you. Be not too certain but I  
 am now with you.   [ begin page 379 ]ppp.01500.387.jpg

CROSSING BROOKLYN FERRY.

¹FLOOD-TIDE below me! I watch you, face to face; Clouds of the west! sun there half an hour high! I  
 see you also face to face. ²Crowds of men and women attired in the usual cos- 
 tumes! how curious you are to me! On the ferry-boats, the hundreds and hundreds that  
 cross, returning home, are more curious to me  
 than you suppose, And you that shall cross from shore to shore years  
 hence, are more to me, and more in my med- 
 itations, than you might suppose. ³The impalpable sustenance of me from all things, at  
 all hours of the day, The simple, compact, well-joined scheme—myself  
 disintegrated, every one disintegrated, yet part  
 of the scheme, The similitudes of the past, and those of the future, The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights  
 and hearings—on the walk in the street, and  
 the passage over the river,   [ begin page 380 ]ppp.01500.388.jpg The current rushing so swiftly, and swimming with  
 me far away, The others that are to follow me, the ties between me  
 and them, The certainty of others—the life, love, sight, hear- 
 ing of others. ⁴Others will enter the gates of the ferry, and cross  
 from shore to shore, Others will watch the run of the flood-tide, Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and  
 west, and the heights of Brooklyn to the south  
 and east, Others will see the islands large and small, Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, 
 the sun half an hour high, A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred  
 years hence, others will see them, Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring in of the flood- 
 tide, the falling back to the sea of the ebb-tide. ⁵It avails not, neither time or place—distance avails  
 not, I am with you, you men and women of a generation, 
 or ever so many generations hence, I project myself—also I return—I am with you, and  
 know how it is. ⁶Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, 
 so I felt, Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one  
 of a crowd, Just as you are refreshed by the gladness of the river, 
 and the bright flow, I was refreshed,   [ begin page 381 ]ppp.01500.389.jpg Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with  
 the swift current, I stood, yet was hurried, Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships, 
 and the thick-stemmed pipes of steamboats, I  
 looked. ⁷I too many and many a time crossed the river, the  
 sun half an hour high, I watched the Twelfth Month sea-gulls—I saw them  
 high in the air, floating with motionless wings, 
 oscillating their bodies, I saw how the glistening yellow lit up parts of their  
 bodies, and left the rest in strong shadow, I saw the slow-wheeling circles, and the gradual  
 edging toward the south. ⁸I too saw the reflection of the summer sky in the  
 water, Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of  
 beams, Looked at the fine centrifugal spokes of light round  
 the shape of my head in the sun-lit water, Looked on the haze on the hills southward and south- 
 westward, Looked on the vapor as it flew in fleeces tinged with  
 violet, Looked toward the lower bay to notice the arriving  
 ships, Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near  
 me, Saw the white sails of schooners and sloops, saw the  
 ships at anchor, The sailors at work in the rigging, or out astride the  
 spars,   [ begin page 382 ]ppp.01500.390.jpg The round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls, 
 the slender serpentine pennants, The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in  
 their pilot-houses, The white wake left by the passage, the quick trem- 
 ulous whirl of the wheels, The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sun-set, The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled  
 cups, the frolicsome crests and glistening, The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the  
 gray walls of the granite store-houses by the  
 docks, On the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug  
 closely flanked on each side by the barges—the  
 hay-boat, the belated lighter, On the neighboring shore, the fires from the foundry  
 chimneys burning high and glaringly into the  
 night, Casting, their flicker of black, contrasted with wild  
 red and yellow light, over the tops of houses, 
 and down into the clefts of streets. ⁹These, and all else, were to me the same as they are  
 to you, I project myself a moment to tell you—also I  
 return. ¹⁰I loved well those cities, I loved well the stately and rapid river, The men and women I saw were all near to me, Others the same—others who look back on me, 
 because I looked forward to them, (The time will come, though I stop here to-day and  
 to-night.)   [ begin page 383 ]ppp.01500.391.jpg ¹¹What is it, then, between us? What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years  
 between us? ¹²Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and  
 place avails not. ¹³I too lived, (I was of old Brooklyn,) I too walked the streets of Manhattan Island, and  
 bathed in the waters around it, I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within  
 me, In the day, among crowds of people, sometimes they  
 came upon me, In my walks home late at night, or as I lay in my  
 bed, they came upon me. ¹⁴I too had been struck from the float forever held in  
 solution, I too had received identity by my body, That I was, I knew was of my body—and what I  
 should be, I knew I should be of my body. ¹⁵It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall, The dark threw patches down upon me also, The best I had done seemed to me blank and sus- 
 picious, My great thoughts, as I supposed them, were they not  
 in reality meagre? would not people laugh  
 at me? ¹⁶It is not you alone who know what it is to be evil, I am he who knew what it was to be evil,   [ begin page 384 ]ppp.01500.392.jpg I too knitted the old knot of contrariety, Blabbed, blushed, resented, lied, stole, grudged, Had guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak, Was wayward, vain, greedy, shallow, sly, cowardly, 
 malignant, The wolf, the snake, the hog, not wanting in me, The cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous  
 wish, not wanting, Refusals, hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, 
 none of these wanting. ¹⁷But I was a Manhattanese, free, friendly, and proud I was called by my nighest name by clear loud voices  
 of young men as they saw me approaching or  
 passing, Felt their arms on my neck as I stood, or the neg- 
 ligent leaning of their flesh against me as I sat, Saw many I loved in the street, or ferry-boat, or pub- 
 lic assembly, yet never told them a word, Lived the same life with the rest, the same old laugh- 
 ing, gnawing, sleeping, Played the part that still looks back on the actor or  
 actress, The same old rôle, the rôle that is what we make it, 
 as great as we like, Or as small as we like, or both great and  
 small. ¹⁸Closer yet I approach you, What thought you have of me, I had as much of you  
 —I laid in my stores in advance, I considered long and seriously of you before you  
 were born.   [ begin page 385 ]ppp.01500.393.jpg ¹⁹Who was to know what should come home to me? Who knows but I am enjoying this? Who knows but I am as good as looking at you now, 
 for all you cannot see me? ²⁰It is not you alone, nor I alone, Not a few races, nor a few generations, nor a few  
 centuries, It is that each came, or comes, or shall come, from its  
 due emission, without fail, either now, or then, or  
 henceforth. ²¹Every thing indicates—the smallest does, and the  
 largest does, A necessary film envelops all, and envelops the Soul  
 for a proper time. ²²Now I am curious what sight can ever be more stately  
 and admirable to me than my mast-hemm'd Man- 
 hatta, My river and sun-set, and my scallop-edged waves of  
 flood-tide, The sea-gulls oscillating their bodies, the hay-boat in  
 the twilight, and the belated lighter; Curious what Gods can exceed these that clasp me  
 by the hand, and with voices I love call me  
 promptly and loudly by my nighest name as I  
 approach, Curious what is more subtle than this which ties me  
 to the woman or man that looks in my face, Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning  
 into you. 33   [ begin page 386 ]ppp.01500.394.jpg ²³We understand, then, do we not? What I promised without mentioning it, have you not  
 accepted? What the study could not teach—what the preaching  
 could not accomplish is accomplished, is it not? What the push of reading could not start is started by  
 me personally, is it not? ²⁴Flow on, river! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with  
 the ebb-tide! Frolic on, crested and scallop-edged waves! Gorgeous clouds of the sunset! drench with your  
 splendor me, or the men and women generations  
 after me; Cross from shore to shore, countless crowds of pas- 
 sengers! Stand up, tall masts of Mannahatta!—stand up, 
 beautiful hills of Brooklyn! Bully for you! you proud, friendly, free Manhat- 
 tanese! Throb, baffled and curious brain! throw out questions  
 and answers! Suspend here and everywhere, eternal float of solu- 
 tion! Blab, blush, lie, steal, you or I or any one after us! Gaze, loving and thirsting eyes, in the house, or street, 
 or public assembly! Sound out, voices of young men! loudly and musically  
 call me by my nighest name! Live, old life! play the part that looks back on the  
 actor or actress! Play the old rôle, the rôle that is great or small, 
 according as one makes it!   [ begin page 387 ]ppp.01500.395.jpg Consider, you who peruse me, whether I may not in  
 unknown ways be looking upon you; Be firm, rail over the river, to support those who lean  
 idly, yet haste with the hasting current; Fly on, sea-birds! fly sideways, or wheel in large  
 circles high in the air; Receive the summer-sky, you water! and faithfully  
 hold it, till all downcast eyes have time to take  
 it from you; Diverge, fine spokes of light, from the shape of my  
 head, or any one's head, in the sun-lit water; Come on, ships from the lower bay! pass up or down, 
 white-sailed schooners, sloops, lighters! Flaunt away, flags of all nations! be duly lowered at  
 sunset; Burn high your fires, foundry chimneys! cast black  
 shadows at nightfall! cast red and yellow light  
 over the tops of the houses; Appearances, now or henceforth, indicate what you  
 are; You necessary film, continue to envelop the Soul; About my body for me, and your body for you, be  
 hung our divinest aromas; Thrive, cities! bring your freight, bring your shows, 
 ample and sufficient rivers; Expand, being than which none else is perhaps more  
 spiritual; Keep your places, objects than which none else is  
 more lasting. ²⁵We descend upon you and all things—we arrest you  
 all, We realize the Soul only by you, you faithful solids  
 and fluids,   [ begin page 388 ]ppp.01500.396.jpg Through you color, form, location, sublimity, ideality, Through you every proof, comparison, and all the  
 suggestions and determinations of ourselves. ²⁶You have waited, you always wait, you dumb, beauti- 
 ful ministers! you novices! We receive you with free sense at last, and are  
 insatiate henceforward, Not you any more shall be able to foil us, or with- 
 hold yourselves from us, We use you, and do not cast you aside—we plant  
 you permanently within us, We fathom you not—we love you—there is per- 
 fection in you also, You furnish your parts toward eternity, Great or small, you furnish your parts toward the  
 Soul.   [ begin page 389 ]ppp.01500.397.jpg

LONGINGS FOR HOME.

O MAGNET-SOUTH! O glistening, perfumed South! My  
 South! O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse, and love! Good  
 and evil! O all dear to me! O dear to me my birth-things—All moving things,  
 and the trees where I was born—the grains,  
 plants, rivers; Dear to me my own slow sluggish rivers where they  
 flow, distant, over flats of silvery sands, or  
 through swamps, Dear to me the Roanoke, the Savannah, the Altama- 
 haw, the Pedee, the Tombigbee, the Santee, the  
 Coosa, and the Sabine; O pensive, far away wandering, I return with my Soul  
 to haunt their banks again, Again in Florida I float on transparent lakes—I float  
 on the Okeechobee—I cross the hummock land,  
 or through pleasant openings, or dense forests, I see the parrots in the woods—I see the papaw tree  
 and the blossoming titi; Again, sailing in my coaster, on deck, I coast off  
 Georgia—I coast up the Carolinas, I see where the live-oak is growing—I see where the  
 yellow-pine, the scented bay-tree, the lemon and  
 orange, the cypress, the graceful palmetto; I pass rude sea-headlands and enter Pamlico Sound  
 through an inlet, and dart my vision inland, 33*   [ begin page 390 ]ppp.01500.398.jpg O the cotton plant! the growing fields of rice, sugar,  
 hemp! The cactus, guarded with thorns—the laurel-tree,  
 with large white flowers, The range afar—the richness and barrenness—the  
 old woods charged with mistletoe and trailing  
 moss, The piney odor and the gloom—the awful natural  
 stillness, (Here in these dense swamps the free-  
 booter carries his gun, and the fugitive slave has  
 his concealed hut;) O the strange fascination of these half-known, half-  
 impassable swamps, infested by reptiles, resound- 
 ing with the bellow of the alligator, the sad noises  
 of the night-owl and the wild-cat, and the whirr  
 of the rattlesnake; The mocking-bird, the American mimic, singing all  
 the forenoon—singing through the moon-lit  
 night, The humming-bird, the wild-turkey, the raccoon, the  
 opossum; A Tennessee corn-field—the tall, graceful, long-leaved  
 corn—slender, flapping, bright green, with tas- 
 sels—with beautiful ears, each well-sheathed in  
 its husk, An Arkansas prairie—a sleeping lake, or still bayou; O my heart! O tender and fierce pangs—I can stand  
 them not—I will depart; O to be a Virginian, where I grew up! O to be a  
 Carolinian! O longings irrepressible! O I will go back to old Ten- 
 nessee, and never wander more!   [ begin page 391 ]ppp.01500.399.jpg

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. ²Whoever 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. ³O 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.   [ begin page 392 ]ppp.01500.400.jpg ⁴I 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. ⁵Painters 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. ⁶O 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? ⁷The mockeries are not you, Underneath them, and within them, I see you lurk, I pursue you where none else has pursued you,   [ begin page 393 ]ppp.01500.401.jpg 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. ⁸There 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. ⁹As 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. ¹⁰Whoever 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,   [ begin page 394 ]ppp.01500.402.jpg 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. ¹¹The 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.

¹COURAGE! 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. ²What 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.   [ begin page 395 ]ppp.01500.403.jpg ³What 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. ⁴The 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. ⁵When 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. ⁶When 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,   [ begin page 396 ]ppp.01500.404.jpg 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. ⁷Then courage! For till all ceases, neither must you cease. ⁸I 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. ⁹Did 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.   [ begin page 397 ]ppp.01500.405.jpg

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. 34   [ begin page 398 ]ppp.01500.406.jpg

To One shortly To Die.

¹FROM 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. ²Softly 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.) ³The 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.   [ begin page 399 ]ppp.01500.407.jpg

To a Common Prostitute.

¹BE 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. ²My 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. ³Till 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.   [ begin page 400 ]ppp.01500.408.jpg

To a Pupil.

¹IS reform needed? Is it through you? The greater the reform needed, the greater the PER- 
 SONALITY you need to accomplish it. ²You! 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? ³O 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?   [ begin page 401 ]ppp.01500.409.jpg 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. 34*   [ begin page 402 ]ppp.01500.410.jpg

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.   [ begin page 403 ]ppp.01500.411.jpg

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?   [ begin page 404 ]ppp.01500.412.jpg

MANNAHATTA.

I WAS asking for something specific and perfect for  
 my city, and behold! here is the aboriginal  
 name! Now I see what there is in a name, a word, liquid,  
 sane, unruly, musical, self-sufficient, I see that the word of my city, is that word up there, Because I see that word nested in nests of water-bays,  
 superb, with tall and wonderful spires, Rich, hemmed thick all around with sailships and  
 steamships—an island sixteen miles long, solid-  
 founded, Numberless crowded streets—high growths of iron,  
 slender, strong, light, splendidly uprising toward  
 clear skies; Tides swift and ample, well-loved by me, toward sun- 
 down, The flowing sea-currents, the little islands, the larger  
 adjoining islands, the heights, the villas, The countless masts, the white shore-steamers, the  
 lighters, the ferry-boats, the black sea-steamers,  
 well-model'd; The down-town streets, the jobbers' houses of business  
 —the houses of business of the ship-merchants,  
 and money-brokers—the river-streets,   [ begin page 405 ]ppp.01500.413.jpg Immigrants arriving, fifteen or twenty thousand in a  
 week, The carts hauling goods—the manly race of drivers  
 of horses—the brown-faced sailors, The summer-air, the bright sun shining, and the sail- 
 ing clouds aloft, The winter snows, the sleigh-bells—the broken ice in  
 the river, passing along, up or down, with the  
 flood-tide or ebb-tide; The mechanics of the city, the masters, well-formed,  
 beautiful-faced, looking you straight in the eyes; Trottoirs thronged—vehicles—Broadway—the wo- 
 men—the shops and shows, The parades, processions, bugles playing, flags flying,  
 drums beating; A million people—manners free and superb—open  
 voices—hospitality—the most courageous and  
 friendly young men; The free city! no slaves! no owners of slaves! The beautiful city! the city of hurried and sparkling  
 waters! the city of spires and masts! The city nested in bays! my city! The city of such women, I am mad to be with them!  
 I will return after death to be with them! The city of such young men, I swear I cannot live  
 happy, without I often go talk, walk, eat, drink,  
 sleep, with them!   [ begin page 406 ]ppp.01500.414.jpg

FRANCE,  
  The 18th Year of These States.

¹A GREAT year and place, A harsh, discordant, natal scream rising, to touch the  
 mother's heart closer than any yet. ²I walked the shores of my Eastern Sea, Heard over the waves the little voice, Saw the divine infant, where she woke, mournfully  
 wailing, amid the roar of cannon, curses, shouts, 
 crash of falling buildings, Was not so sick from the blood in the gutters running  
 —nor from the single corpses, nor those in heaps, 
 nor those borne away in the tumbrils, Was not so desperate at the battues of death—was  
 not so shocked at the repeated fusillades of the  
 guns. ³Pale, silent, stern, what could I say to that long- 
 accrued retribution? Could I wish humanity different? Could I wish the people made of wood and stone? Or that there be no justice in destiny or time?   [ begin page 407 ]ppp.01500.415.jpg ⁴O Liberty! O mate for me! Here too keeps the blaze, the bullet and the axe, in  
 reserve, to fetch them out in case of need, Here too, though long deprest, still is not destroyed, Here too could rise at last, murdering and extatic, Here too would demand full arrears of vengeance. ⁵Hence I sign this salute over the sea, And I do not deny that terrible red birth and baptism, But remember the little voice that I heard wailing— 
 and wait with perfect trust, no matter how long, And from to-day, sad and cogent, I maintain the  
 bequeath'd cause, as for all lands, And I send these words to Paris, with my love, And I guess some chansonniers there will understand  
 them, For I guess there is latent music yet in France— 
 floods of it, O I hear already the bustle of instruments—they  
 will soon be drowning all that would interrupt  
 them, O I think the east wind brings a triumphal and free  
 march, It reaches hither—it swells me to joyful madness, I will run transpose it in words, to justify it, I will yet sing a song for you, ma femme.   [ begin page 408 ]ppp.01500.416.jpg

THOUGHTS.

1.

OF the visages of things—And of piercing through  
 to the accepted hells beneath; Of ugliness—To me there is just as much in it as  
 there is in beauty—And now the ugliness of  
 human beings is acceptable to me; Of detected persons—To me, detected persons are  
 not, in any respect, worse than undetected per- 
 sons—and are not in any respect worse than I  
 am myself; Of criminals—To me, any judge, or any juror, is  
 equally criminal—and any reputable person is  
 also—and the President is also.

2.

OF waters, forests, hills, Of the earth at large, whispering through medium  
 of me; Of vista—Suppose some sight in arriere, through the  
 formative chaos, presuming the growth, fulness, 
 life, now attained on the journey;   [ begin page 409 ]ppp.01500.417.jpg (But I see the road continued, and the journey ever  
 continued;) Of what was once lacking on the earth, and in due  
 time has become supplied—And of what will  
 yet be supplied, Because all I see and know, I believe to have purport  
 in what will yet be supplied.

3.

OF persons arrived at high positions, ceremonies, 
 wealth, scholarships, and the like, To me, all that those persons have arrived at, sinks  
 away from them, except as it results to their  
 bodies and Souls, So that often to me they appear gaunt and naked, And often, to me, each one mocks the others, and  
 mocks himself or herself, And of each one, the core of life, namely happiness, 
 is full of the rotten excrement of maggots, And often, to me, those men and women pass un- 
 wittingly the true realities of life, and go toward  
 false realities, And often, to me, they are alive after what custom  
 has served them, but nothing more, And often, to me, they are sad, hasty, unwaked son- 
 nambules, walking the dusk. 35   [ begin page 410 ]ppp.01500.418.jpg

4.

OF ownership—As if one fit to own things could not  
 at pleasure enter upon all, and incorporate them  
 into himself or herself; Of Equality—As if it harmed me, giving others the  
 same chances and rights as myself—As if it  
 were not indispensable to my own rights that  
 others possess the same; Of Justice—As if Justice could be any thing but  
 the same ample law, expounded by natural  
 judges and saviours, As if it might be this thing or that thing, according  
 to decisions.

5.

AS I sit with others, at a great feast, suddenly, while  
 the music is playing, To my mind, (whence it comes I know not,) spectral, 
 in mist, of a wreck at sea, Of the flower of the marine science of fifty genera- 
 tions, foundered off the Northeast coast, and  
 going down—Of the steamship Arctic going  
 down, Of the veiled tableau—Women gathered together  
 on deck, pale, heroic, waiting the moment that  
 draws so close—O the moment!   [ begin page 411 ]ppp.01500.419.jpg O the huge sob—A few bubbles—the white foam  
 spirting up—And then the women gone, Sinking there, while the passionless wet flows on— 
 And I now pondering, Are those women indeed  
 gone? Are Souls drowned and destroyed so? Is only matter triumphant?

6.

OF what I write from myself—As if that were not  
 the resumé; Of Histories—As if such, however complete, were  
 not less complete than my poems; As if the shreds, the records of nations, could possibly  
 be as lasting as my poems; As if here were not the amount of all nations, and of  
 all the lives of heroes.

7.

OF obedience, faith, adhesiveness; As I stand aloof and look, there is to me something  
 profoundly affecting in large masses of men, fol- 
 lowing the lead of those who do not believe in  
 men.   [ begin page 412 ]ppp.01500.420.jpg

UNNAMED LANDS.

¹NATIONS ten thousand years before These States, and  
 many times ten thousand years before These  
 States, Garnered clusters of ages, that men and women like  
 us grew up and travelled their course, and  
 passed on; What vast-built cities—What orderly republics— 
 What pastoral tribes and nomads, What histories, rulers, heroes, perhaps transcending  
 all others, What laws, customs, wealth, arts, traditions, What sort of marriage—What costumes—What  
 physiology and phrenology, What of liberty and slavery among them—What  
 they thought of death and the Soul, Who were witty and wise—Who beautiful and poetic  
 —Who brutish and undeveloped, Not a mark, not a record remains—And yet all  
 remains. ²O I know that those men and women were not for  
 nothing, any more than we are for nothing,   [ begin page 413 ]ppp.01500.421.jpg I know that they belong to the scheme of the world  
 every bit as much as we now belong to it, and as  
 all will henceforth belong to it. ³Afar they stand—yet near to me they stand, Some with oval countenances, learned and calm, Some naked and savage—Some like huge collections  
 of insects, Some in tents—herdsmen, patriarchs, tribes, horse- 
 men, Some prowling through woods—Some living peacea- 
 bly on farms, laboring, reaping, filling barns, Some traversing paved avenues, amid temples, palaces, 
 factories, libraries, shows, courts, theatres, won- 
 derful monuments. ⁴Are those billions of men really gone? Are those women of the old experience of the earth  
 gone? Do their lives, cities, arts, rest only with us? Did they achieve nothing for good, for themselves? ⁵I believe of all those billions of men and women that  
 filled the unnamed lands, every one exists this  
 hour, here or elsewhere, invisible to us, in exact  
 proportion to what he or she grew from in life, 
 and out of what he or she did, felt, became, loved, 
 sinned, in life. ⁶I believe that was not the end of those nations, or any  
 person of them, any more than this shall be the  
 end of my nation, or of me; 35*   [ begin page 414 ]ppp.01500.422.jpg Of their languages, phrenology, government, coins, med- 
 als, marriage, literature, products, games, juris- 
 prudence, wars, manners, amativeness, crimes, 
 prisons, slaves, heroes, poets, I suspect their re- 
 sults curiously await in the yet unseen world — 
 counterparts of what accrued to them in the seen  
 world, I suspect I shall meet them there, I suspect I shall there find each old particular of those  
 unnamed lands.

KOSMOS.

WHO includes diversity, and is Nature, Who is the amplitude of the earth, and the coarseness  
 and sexuality of the earth, and the great charity  
 of the earth, and the equilibrium also, Who has not looked forth from the windows, the eyes,  
 for nothing, or whose brain held audience with  
 messengers for nothing; Who contains believers and disbelievers—Who is the  
 most majestic lover; Who holds duly his or her triune proportion of realism,  
 spiritualism, and of the æsthetic, or intellectual, Who, having considered the body, finds all its organs  
 and parts good; Who, out of the theory of the earth, and of his or her  
 body, understands by subtle analogies, the theory  
 of a city, a poem, and of the large politics of  
 These States;   [ begin page 415 ]ppp.01500.423.jpg Who believes not only in our globe, with its sun and  
 moon, but in other globes, with their suns and  
 moons; Who, constructing the house of himself or herself, not  
 for a day, but for all time, sees races, eras, dates,  
 generations, The past, the future, dwelling there, like space, insep- 
 arable together.

A HAND-MIRROR.

HOLD it up sternly! See this it sends back! (Who is  
 it? Is it you?) Outside fair costume—within, ashes and filth, No more a flashing eye—no more a sonorous voice  
 or springy step, Now some slave's eye, voice, hands, step, A drunkard's breath, unwholesome eater's face, ve- 
 nerealee's flesh, Lungs rotting away piecemeal, stomach sour and  
 cankerous, Joints rheumatic, bowels clogged with abomination, Blood circulating dark and poisonous streams, Words babble, hearing and touch callous, No brain, no heart left—no magnetism of sex; Such, from one look in this looking-glass ere you go  
 hence, Such a result so soon—and from such a beginning!   [ begin page 416 ]ppp.01500.424.jpg

BEGINNERS.

HOW they are provided for upon the earth, (appear- 
 ing at intervals,) How dear and dreadful they are to the earth, How they inure to themselves as much as to any—  
 What a paradox appears, their age, How people respond to them, yet know them not, How there is something relentless in their fate, all  
 times, How all times mischoose the objects of their adulation  
 and reward, And how the same inexorable price must still be paid  
 for the same great purchase.

TESTS.

ALL submit to them, where they sit, inner, secure,  
 unapproachable to analysis, in the Soul; Not traditions—not the outer authorities are the  
 judges—they are the judges of outer authori- 
 ties, and of all traditions, They corroborate as they go, only whatever corrobo- 
 rates themselves, and touches themselves, For all that, they have it forever in themselves to cor- 
 roborate far and near, without one exception.   [ begin page 417 ]ppp.01500.425.jpg

SAVANTISM.

THITHER, as I look, I see each result and glory re- 
 tracing itself and nestling close, always obli- 
 gated; Thither hours, months, years—thither trades, com- 
 pacts, establishments, even the most minute, Thither every-day life, speech, utensils, politics, per- 
 sons, estates, Thither we also, I with my leaves and songs, trustful,  
 admirant, As a father, to his father going, takes his children  
 along with him.

PERFECTIONS.

ONLY themselves understand themselves, and the like  
 of themselves, As Souls only understand Souls.   [ begin page 418 ]ppp.01500.426.jpg

SAYS.

1.

I SAY whatever tastes sweet to the most perfect per- 
 son, that is finally right.

2.

I SAY nourish a great intellect, a great brain; If I have said anything to the contrary, I hereby  
 retract it.

3.

I SAY man shall not hold property in man; I say the least developed person on earth is just as  
 important and sacred to himself or herself, as  
 the most developed person is to himself or her- 
 self.

4.

I SAY where liberty draws not the blood out of  
 slavery, there slavery draws the blood out of  
 liberty, I say the word of the good old cause in These States, 
 and resound it hence over the world.   [ begin page 419 ]ppp.01500.427.jpg

5.

I SAY the human shape or face is so great, it must  
 never be made ridiculous; I say for ornaments nothing outre can be allowed, And that anything is most beautiful without orna- 
 ment, And that exaggerations will be sternly revenged in  
 your own physiology, and in other persons' phys- 
 iology also; And I say that clean-shaped children can be jetted  
 and conceived only where natural forms prevail  
 in public, and the human face and form are  
 never caricatured; And I say that genius need never more be turned to  
 romances, (For facts properly told, how mean appear all  
 romances.)

6.

I SAY the word of lands fearing nothing—I will  
 have no other land; I say discuss all and expose all—I am for every  
 topic openly; I say there can be no salvation for These States with- 
 out innovators—without free tongues, and ears  
 willing to hear the tongues; And I announce as a glory of These States, that  
 they respectfully listen to propositions, reforms, 
 fresh views and doctrines, from successions of  
 men and women, Each age with its own growth.   [ begin page 420 ]ppp.01500.428.jpg

7.

I HAVE said many times that materials and the Soul  
 are great, and that all depends on physique; Now I reverse what I said, and affirm that all depends  
 on the æsthetic or intellectual, And that criticism is great—and that refinement is  
 greatest of all; And I affirm now that the mind governs—and that  
 all depends on the mind.

8.

WITH one man or woman—(no matter which one— 
 I even pick out the lowest,) With him or her I now illustrate the whole law; I say that every right, in politics or what-not, shall be  
 eligible to that one man or woman, on the same  
 terms as any.   [ begin page 421 ]ppp.01500.429.jpg

DEBRIS.

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? 36   [ begin page 422 ]ppp.01500.430.jpg 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.   [ begin page 423 ]ppp.01500.431.jpg 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?   [ begin page 424 ]ppp.01500.432.jpg 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.   [ begin page 425 ]ppp.01500.433.jpg 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. 36*   [ begin page 426 ]ppp.01500.434.jpg

SLEEP-CHASINGS.

¹I WANDER all night in my vision, Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly step- 
 ping and stopping, Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of  
 sleepers, Wandering and confused, lost to myself, ill-assorted, 
 contradictory, Pausing, gazing, bending, and stopping. ²How solemn they look there, stretched and still! How quiet they breathe, the little children in their  
 cradles! ³The wretched features of ennuyés, the white features  
 of corpses, the livid faces of drunkards, the sick- 
 gray faces of onanists, The gashed bodies on battle-fields, the insane in their  
 strong-doored rooms, the sacred idiots, the new- 
 born emerging from gates, and the dying emer- 
 ging from gates, The night pervades them and infolds them. ⁴The married couple sleep calmly in their bed—he  
 with his palm on the hip of the wife, and she  
 with her palm on the hip of the husband,   [ begin page 427 ]ppp.01500.435.jpg The sisters sleep lovingly side by side in their bed, The men sleep lovingly side by side in theirs, And the mother sleeps, with her little child carefully  
 wrapped. ⁵The blind sleep, and the deaf and dumb sleep, The prisoner sleeps well in the prison—the run- 
 away son sleeps, The murderer that is to be hung next day—how  
 does he sleep? And the murdered person—how does he sleep? ⁶The female that loves unrequited sleeps, And the male that loves unrequited sleeps, The head of the money-maker that plotted all day  
 sleeps, And the enraged and treacherous dispositions— 
 all, all sleep. ⁷I stand in the dark with drooping eyes by the worst- 
 suffering and the most restless, I pass my hands soothingly to and fro a few inches  
 from them, The restless sink in their beds—they fitfully sleep. ⁸Now I pierce the darkness—new beings appear, The earth recedes from me into the night, I saw that it was beautiful, and I see that what is not  
 the earth is beautiful. ⁹I go from bedside to bedside—I sleep close with  
 the other sleepers, each in turn, I dream in my dream all the dreams of the other  
 dreamers, And I become the other dreamers.   [ begin page 428 ]ppp.01500.436.jpg ¹⁰I am a dance—Play up, there! the fit is whirling  
 me fast! ¹¹I am the ever-laughing—it is new moon and twilight, I see the hiding of douceurs—I see nimble ghosts  
 whichever way I look, Cache, and cache again, deep in the ground and sea, 
 and where it is neither ground or sea. ¹²Well do they do their jobs, those journeymen divine, Only from me can they hide nothing, and would not  
 if they could, I reckon I am their boss, and they make me a pet  
 besides, And surround me and lead me, and run ahead when  
 I walk, To lift their cunning covers, to signify me with  
 stretched arms, and resume the way; Onward we move! a gay gang of blackguards! with  
 mirth-shouting music and wild-flapping pennants  
 of joy! ¹³I am the actor, the actress, the voter, the politician, The emigrant and the exile, the criminal that stood  
 in the box, He who has been famous, and he who shall be famous  
 after to-day, The stammerer, the well-formed person, the wasted  
 or feeble person. ¹⁴I am she who adorned herself and folded her hair  
 expectantly, My truant lover has come, and it is dark.   [ begin page 429 ]ppp.01500.437.jpg ¹⁵Double yourself and receive me, darkness! Receive me and my lover too—he will not let me go  
 without him. ¹⁶I roll myself upon you, as upon a bed—I resign  
 myself to the dusk. ¹⁷He whom I call answers me and takes the place of  
 my lover, He rises with me silently from the bed. ¹⁸Darkness! you are gentler than my lover—his flesh  
 was sweaty and panting, I feel the hot moisture yet that he left me. ¹⁹My hands are spread forth, I pass them in all  
 directions, I would sound up the shadowy shore to which you  
 are journeying. ²⁰Be careful, darkness! already, what was it touched  
 me? I thought my lover had gone, else darkness and he  
 are one, I hear the heart-beat—I follow, I fade away. ²¹O hot-cheeked and blushing! O foolish hectic! O for pity's sake, no one must see me now! my  
 clothes were stolen while I was abed, Now I am thrust forth, where shall I run? ²²Pier that I saw dimly last night, when I looked from  
 the windows!   [ begin page 430 ]ppp.01500.438.jpg Pier out from the main, let me catch myself with you  
 and stay—I will not chafe you, I feel ashamed to go naked about the world. ²³I am curious to know where my feet stand—and  
 what this is flooding me, childhood or manhood  
 —and the hunger that crosses the bridge  
 between. ²⁴The cloth laps a first sweet eating and drinking, Laps life-swelling yolks—laps ear of rose-corn, milky  
 and just ripened; The white teeth stay, and the boss-tooth advances in  
 darkness, And liquor is spilled on lips and bosoms by touching  
 glasses, and the best liquor afterward. ²⁵I descend my western course, my sinews are flaccid, Perfume and youth course through me, and I am  
 their wake. ²⁶It is my face yellow and wrinkled, instead of the  
 old woman's, I sit low in a straw-bottom chair, and carefully darn  
 my grandson's stockings. ²⁷It is I too, the sleepless widow looking out on the  
 winter midnight, I see the sparkles of starshine on the icy and pallid  
 earth. ²⁸A shroud I see, and I am the shroud—I wrap a body  
 and lie in the coffin,   [ begin page 431 ]ppp.01500.439.jpg It is dark here under ground—it is not evil or pain  
 here—it is blank here, for reasons. ²⁹It seems to me that everything in the light and air  
 ought to be happy, Whoever is not in his coffin and the dark grave, let  
 him know he has enough. ³⁰I see a beautiful gigantic swimmer swimming naked  
 through the eddies of the sea, His brown hair lies close and even to his head— 
 he strikes out with courageous arms—he urges  
 himself with his legs, I see his white body—I see his undaunted eyes, I hate the swift-running eddies that would dash him  
 head-foremost on the rocks. ³¹What are you doing, you ruffianly red-trickled waves? Will you kill the courageous giant? Will you kill  
 him in the prime of his middle age? ³²Steady and long he struggles, He is baffled, banged, bruised—he holds out while  
 his strength holds out, The slapping eddies are spotted with his blood— 
 they bear him away—they roll him, swing him, 
 turn him, His beautiful body is borne in the circling eddies, 
 it is continually bruised on rocks, Swiftly and out of sight is borne the brave corpse. ³³I turn, but do not extricate myself, Confused, a past-reading, another, but with darkness  
 yet.   [ begin page 432 ]ppp.01500.440.jpg ³⁴The beach is cut by the razory ice-wind—the wreck- 
 guns sound, The tempest lulls—the moon comes floundering  
 through the drifts. ³⁵I look where the ship helplessly heads end on—I  
 hear the burst as she strikes—I hear the howls  
 of dismay—they grow fainter and fainter. ³⁶I cannot aid with my wringing fingers, I can but rush to the surf, and let it drench me and  
 freeze upon me. ³⁷I search with the crowd—not one of the company is  
 washed to us alive; In the morning I help pick up the dead and lay them  
 in rows in a barn. ³⁸Now of the old war-days, the defeat at Brooklyn, Washington stands inside the lines—he stands on the  
 intrenched hills, amid a crowd of officers, His face is cold and damp—he cannot repress the  
 weeping drops, He lifts the glass perpetually to his eyes—the color  
 is blanched from his cheeks, He sees the slaughter of the southern braves confided  
 to him by their parents. ³⁹The same, at last and at last, when peace is declared, He stands in the room of the old tavern—the well- 
 beloved soldiers all pass through, The officers speechless and slow draw near in their  
 turns,   [ begin page 433 ]ppp.01500.441.jpg The chief encircles their necks with his arm, and  
 kisses them on the cheek, He kisses lightly the wet cheeks one after another— 
 he shakes hands, and bids good-by to the army. ⁴⁰Now I tell what my mother told me to-day as we sat  
 at dinner together, Of when she was a nearly grown girl, living home  
 with her parents on the old homestead. ⁴¹A red squaw came one breakfast-time to the old  
 homestead, On her back she carried a bundle of rushes for  
 rush-bottoming chairs, Her hair, straight, shiny, coarse, black, profuse, half- 
 enveloped her face, Her step was free and elastic, and her voice sounded  
 exquisitely as she spoke. ⁴²My mother looked in delight and amazement at the  
 stranger, She looked at the freshness of her tall-borne face, and  
 full and pliant limbs, The more she looked upon her she loved her, Never before had she seen such wonderful beauty and  
 purity, She made her sit on a bench by the jamb of the fire- 
 place—she cooked food for her, She had no work to give her, but she gave her  
 remembrance and fondness. ⁴³The red squaw staid all the forenoon, and toward the  
 middle of the afternoon she went away, 37   [ begin page 434 ]ppp.01500.442.jpg O my mother was loth to have her go away! All the week she thought of her—she watched for  
 her many a month, She remembered her many a winter and many a  
 summer, But the red squaw never came, nor was heard of  
 there again. ⁴⁴Now Lucifer was not dead—or if he was, I am his  
 sorrowful terrible heir, I have been wronged—I am oppressed—I hate him  
 that oppresses me, I will either destroy him, or he shall release me. ⁴⁵Damn him! how he does defile me! How he informs against my brother and sister, and  
 takes pay for their blood! How he laughs when I look down the bend, after the  
 steamboat that carries away my woman! ⁴⁶Now the vast dusk bulk that is the whale's bulk, it  
 seems mine, Warily, sportsman! though I lie so sleepy and slug- 
 gish, my tap is death. ⁴⁷A show of the summer softness! a contact of some- 
 thing unseen! an amour of the light and air! I am jealous, and overwhelmed with friendliness, And will go gallivant with the light and air myself, And have an unseen something to be in contact with  
 them also. ⁴⁸O love and summer! you are in the dreams, and  
 in me!   [ begin page 435 ]ppp.01500.443.jpg Autumn and winter are in the dreams—the farmer  
 goes with his thrift, The droves and crops increase, and the barns are well- 
 filled. ⁴⁹Elements merge in the night—ships make tacks in  
 the dreams, The sailor sails—the exile returns home, The fugitive returns unharmed—the immigrant is  
 back beyond months and years, The poor Irishman lives in the simple house of his  
 childhood, with the well-known neighbors and  
 faces, They warmly welcome him—he is barefoot again, he  
 forgets he is well off; The Dutchman voyages home, and the Scotchman  
 and Welshman voyage home, and the native of  
 the Mediterranean voyages home, To every port of England, France, Spain, enter well- 
 filled ships, The Swiss foots it toward his hills—the Prussian goes  
 his way, the Hungarian his way, and the Pole  
 his way, The Swede returns, and the Dane and Norwegian  
 return. ⁵⁰The homeward bound, and the outward bound, The beautiful lost swimmer, the ennuyé, the onanist, 
 the female that loves unrequited, the money- 
 maker, The actor and actress, those through with their parts, 
 and those waiting to commence,   [ begin page 436 ]ppp.01500.444.jpg The affectionate boy, the husband and wife, the voter, 
 the nominee that is chosen, and the nominee that  
 has failed, The great already known, and the great any time  
 after to-day, The stammerer, the sick, the perfect-formed, the  
 homely, The criminal that stood in the box, the judge that  
 sat and sentenced him, the fluent lawyers, the  
 jury, the audience, The laugher and weeper, the dancer, the midnight  
 widow, the red squaw, The consumptive, the erysipelite, the idiot, he that  
 is wronged, The antipodes, and every one between this and them  
 in the dark, I swear they are averaged now—one is no better  
 than the other, The night and sleep have likened them and restored  
 them. ⁵¹I swear they are all beautiful! Every one that sleeps is beautiful—everything in  
 the dim light is beautiful, The wildest and bloodiest is over, and all is peace. ⁵²Peace is always beautiful, The myth of heaven indicates peace and night. ⁵³The myth of heaven indicates the Soul; The Soul is always beautiful—it appears more or it  
 appears less—it comes, or it lags behind,   [ begin page 437 ]ppp.01500.445.jpg It comes from its embowered garden, and looks  
 pleasantly on itself, and encloses the world, Perfect and clean the genitals previously jetting, and  
 perfect and clean the womb cohering, The head well-grown, proportioned and plumb, and  
 the bowels and joints proportioned and plumb. ⁵⁴The Soul is always beautiful, The universe is duly in order, everything is in its  
 place, What is arrived is in its place, and what waits is  
 in its place; The twisted skull waits, the watery or rotten blood  
 waits, The child of the glutton or venerealee waits long, and  
 the child of the drunkard waits long, and the  
 drunkard himself waits long, The sleepers that lived and died wait—the far  
 advanced are to go on in their turns, and the  
 far behind are to go on in their turns, The diverse shall be no less diverse, but they shall  
 flow and unite—they unite now. ⁵⁵The sleepers are very beautiful as they lie unclothed, They flow hand in hand over the whole earth, from  
 east to west, as they lie unclothed, The Asiatic and African are hand in hand—the  
 European and American are hand in hand, Learned and unlearned are hand in hand, and male  
 and female are hand in hand, The bare arm of the girl crosses the bare breast of  
 her lover—they press close without lust—his  
 lips press her neck, 37*   [ begin page 438 ]ppp.01500.446.jpg The father holds his grown or ungrown son in his  
 arms with measureless love, and the son holds  
 the father in his arms with measureless love, The white hair of the mother shines on the white  
 wrist of the daughter, The breath of the boy goes with the breath of the  
 man, friend is inarmed by friend, The scholar kisses the teacher, and the teacher kisses  
 the scholar—the wronged is made right, The call of the slave is one with the master's call, and  
 the master salutes the slave, The felon steps forth from the prison—the insane  
 becomes sane—the suffering of sick persons is  
 relieved, The sweatings and fevers stop—the throat that was  
 unsound is sound—the lungs of the consumptive  
 are resumed—the poor distressed head is free, The joints of the rheumatic move as smoothly as ever, 
 and smoother than ever, Stiflings and passages open—the paralyzed become  
 supple, The swelled and convulsed and congested awake to  
 themselves in condition, They pass the invigoration of the night, and the  
 chemistry of the night, and awake. ⁵⁶I too pass from the night, I stay a while away O night, but I return to you  
 again, and love you. ⁵⁷Why should I be afraid to trust myself to you? I am not afraid—I have been well brought forward  
 by you,   [ begin page 439 ]ppp.01500.447.jpg I love the rich running day, but I do not desert her  
 in whom I lay so long, I know not how I came of you, and I know not where  
 I go with you—but I know I came well, and  
 shall go well. ⁵⁸I will stop only a time with the night, and rise  
 betimes, I will duly pass the day, O my mother, and duly  
 return to you.   [ begin page 440 ]ppp.01500.448.jpg

BURIAL.

¹TO think of it! To think of time—of all that retrospection! To think of to-day, and the ages continued hence- 
 forward! ²Have you guessed you yourself would not continue? Have you dreaded those earth-beetles? Have you feared the future would be nothing to you? ³Is to-day nothing? Is the beginningless past nothing? If the future is nothing, they are just as surely  
 nothing. ⁴To think that the sun rose in the east! that men  
 and women were flexible, real, alive! that every- 
 thing was alive! To think that you and I did not see, feel, think, nor  
 bear our part! To think that we are now here, and bear our part! ⁵Not a day passes—not a minute or second, without  
 an accouchment! Not a day passes—not a minute or second, without a  
 corpse! ⁶The dull nights go over, and the dull days also, The soreness of lying so much in bed goes over,   [ begin page 441 ]ppp.01500.449.jpg The physician, after long putting off, gives the silent  
 and terrible look for an answer, The children come hurried and weeping, and the  
 brothers and sisters are sent for, Medicines stand unused on the shelf—(the camphor- 
 smell has long pervaded the rooms,) The faithful hand of the living does not desert the  
 hand of the dying, The twitching lips press lightly on the forehead of  
 the dying, The breath ceases, and the pulse of the heart ceases, The corpse stretches on the bed, and the living look  
 upon it, It is palpable as the living are palpable. ⁷The living look upon the corpse with their eye-sight, But without eye-sight lingers a different living, and  
 looks curiously on the corpse. ⁸To think that the rivers will flow, and the snow fall, 
 and fruits ripen, and act upon others as upon  
 us now—yet not act upon us! To think of all these wonders of city and country, 
 and others taking great interest in them—and  
 we taking no interest in them! ⁹To think how eager we are in building our houses! To think others shall be just as eager, and we quite  
 indifferent! ¹⁰I see one building the house that serves him a few  
 years, or seventy or eighty years at most, I see one building the house that serves him longer  
 than that.   [ begin page 442 ]ppp.01500.450.jpg ¹¹Slow-moving and black lines creep over the whole  
 earth—they never cease—they are the burial  
 lines, He that was President was buried, and he that is now  
 President shall surely be buried. ¹²Cold dash of waves at the ferry-wharf—posh and  
 ice in the river, half-frozen mud in the streets, 
 a gray discouraged sky overhead, the short last  
 daylight of Twelfth Month, A hearse and stages—other vehicles give place— 
 the funeral of an old Broadway stage-driver, the  
 cortege mostly drivers. ¹³Steady the trot to the cemetery, duly rattles the  
 death-bell, the gate is passed, the new-dug grave  
 is halted at, the living alight, the hearse un- 
 closes, The coffin is passed out, lowered and settled, the  
 whip is laid on the coffin, the earth is swiftly  
 shovelled in, The mound above is flatted with the spades— 
 silence, A minute, no one moves or speaks—it is done, He is decently put away—is there anything more? ¹⁴He was a good fellow, free-mouthed, quick-tempered, 
 not bad-looking, able to take his own part, witty, 
 sensitive to a slight, ready with life or death for  
 a friend, fond of women, gambled, ate hearty, 
 drank hearty, had known what it was to be  
 flush, grew low-spirited toward the last, sickened, 
 was helped by a contribution, died, aged forty- 
 one years—and that was his funeral.   [ begin page 443 ]ppp.01500.451.jpg ¹⁵Thumb extended, finger uplifted, apron, cape, gloves, 
 strap, wet-weather clothes, whip carefully chosen, 
 boss, spotter, starter, hostler, somebody loafing  
 on you, you loafing on somebody, head-way, man  
 before and man behind, good day's work, bad  
 day's work, pet stock, mean stock, first out, last  
 out, turning in at night, To think that these are so much and so nigh to  
 other drivers—and he there takes no interest  
 in them! ¹⁶The markets, the government, the working-man's  
 wages—to think what account they are through  
 our nights and days! To think that other working-men will make just as  
 great account of them—yet we make little or  
 no account! ¹⁷The vulgar and the refined—what you call sin and  
 what you call goodness—to think how wide a  
 difference! To think the difference will still continue to others, 
 yet we lie beyond the difference. ¹⁸To think how much pleasure there is! Have you pleasure from looking at the sky? have  
 you pleasure from poems? Do you enjoy yourself in the city? or engaged in  
 business? or planning a nomination and elec- 
 tion? or with your wife and family? Or with your mother and sisters? or in womanly  
 house-work? or the beautiful maternal cares? These also flow onward to others—you and I flow  
 onward,   [ begin page 444 ]ppp.01500.452.jpg But in due time you and I shall take less interest  
 in them. ¹⁹Your farm, profits, crops,—to think how engrossed  
 you are! To think there will still be farms, profits, crops—yet  
 for you, of what avail? ²⁰What will be, will be well—for what is, is well, To take interest is well, and not to take interest shall  
 be well. ²¹The sky continues beautiful, The pleasure of men with women shall never be sated, 
 nor the pleasure of women with men, nor the  
 pleasure from poems, The domestic joys, the daily house-work or business, 
 the building of houses—these are not phan- 
 tasms—they have weight, form, location; Farms, profits, crops, markets, wages, government, 
 are none of them phantasms, The difference between sin and goodness is no  
 delusion, The earth is not an echo—man and his life, and all  
 the things of his life, are well-considered. ²²You are not thrown to the winds—you gather cer- 
 tainly and safely around yourself, Yourself! Yourself! Yourself, forever and ever! ²³It is not to diffuse you that you were born of your  
 mother and father—it is to identify you, 
 It is not that you should be undecided, but that you  
 should be decided;   [ begin page 445 ]ppp.01500.453.jpg Something long preparing and formless is arrived and  
 formed in you, You are thenceforth secure, whatever comes or goes. ²⁴The threads that were spun are gathered, the weft  
 crosses the warp, the pattern is systematic. ²⁵The preparations have every one been justified, The orchestra have sufficiently tuned their instru- 
 ments, the baton has given the signal. ²⁶The guest that was coming—he waited long, for  
 reasons—he is now housed, He is one of those who are beautiful and happy— 
 he is one of those that to look upon and be  
 with is enough. ²⁷The law of the past cannot be eluded, The law of the present and future cannot be eluded, The law of the living cannot be eluded—it is eter- 
 nal, The law of promotion and transformation cannot be  
 eluded, The law of heroes and good-doers cannot be eluded, The law of drunkards, informers, mean persons— 
 not one iota of it can be eluded. ²⁸Slow-moving and black lines go ceaselessly over the  
 earth, Northerner goes carried, and southerner goes carried, 
 and they on the Atlantic side, and they on the  
 Pacific, and they between, and all through the  
 Mississippi country, and all over the earth. 38   [ begin page 446 ]ppp.01500.454.jpg ²⁹The great masters and kosmos are well as they go— 
 the heroes and good-doers are well, The known leaders and inventors, and the rich owners  
 and pious and distinguished, may be well, But there is more account than that—there is strict  
 account of all. ³⁰The interminable hordes of the ignorant and wicked  
 are not nothing, The barbarians of Africa and Asia are not nothing, The common people of Europe are not nothing—the  
 American aborigines are not nothing, The infected in the immigrant hospital are not  
 nothing—the murderer or mean person is not  
 nothing, The perpetual successions of shallow people are not  
 nothing as they go, The lowest prostitute is not nothing—the mocker of  
 religion is not nothing as he goes. ³¹I shall go with the rest—we have satisfaction, I have dreamed that we are not to be changed so  
 much, nor the law of us changed, I have dreamed that heroes and good-doers shall  
 be under the present and past law, And that murderers, drunkards, liars, shall be under  
 the present and past law, For I have dreamed that the law they are under now  
 is enough. ³²And I have dreamed that the satisfaction is not so  
 much changed, and that there is no life with- 
 out satisfaction; What is the earth? what are body and Soul, without  
 satisfaction?   [ begin page 447 ]ppp.01500.455.jpg ³³I shall go with the rest, We cannot be stopped at a given point—that is no  
 satisfaction, To show us a good thing, or a few good things, for a  
 space of time—that is no satisfaction, We must have the indestructible breed of the best, 
 regardless of time. ³⁴If otherwise, all these things came but to ashes of  
 dung, If maggots and rats ended us, then alarm! for we are  
 betrayed! Then indeed suspicion of death. ³⁵Do you suspect death? If I were to suspect death, I  
 should die now, Do you think I could walk pleasantly and well-suited  
 toward annihilation? ³⁶Pleasantly and well-suited I walk, Whither I walk I cannot define, but I know it is good, The whole universe indicates that it is good, The past and the present indicate that it is good. ³⁷How beautiful and perfect are the animals! How  
 perfect is my Soul! How perfect the earth, and the minutest thing upon  
 it! What is called good is perfect, and what is called bad  
 is just as perfect, The vegetables and minerals are all perfect, and the  
 imponderable fluids are perfect; Slowly and surely they have passed on to this, and  
 slowly and surely they yet pass on.   [ begin page 448 ]ppp.01500.456.jpg ³⁸My Soul! if I realize you, I have satisfaction, Animals and vegetables! if I realize you, I have sat- 
 isfaction, Laws of the earth and air! if I realize you, I have  
 satisfaction. ³⁹I cannot define my satisfaction, yet it is so, I cannot define my life, yet it is so. ⁴⁰O it comes to me now! I swear I think now that everything without excep- 
 tion has an eternal Soul! The trees have, rooted in the ground! the weeds of  
 the sea have! the animals! ⁴¹I swear I think there is nothing but immortality! That the exquisite scheme is for it, and the nebulous  
 float is for it, and the cohering is for it! And all preparation is for it! and identity is for it! 
 and life and death are altogether for it!   [ begin page 449 ]ppp.01500.457.jpg

TO MY SOUL.

¹AS nearing departure, As the time draws nigh, glooming from you, A cloud—a dread beyond, of I know not what, dark- 
 ens me. ²I shall go forth, I shall traverse The States—but I cannot tell whither  
 or how long; Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, 
 my voice will suddenly cease. ³O Soul! Then all may arrive to but this; The glances of my eyes, that swept the daylight, The unspeakable love I interchanged with women, My joys in the open air—my walks through the Man- 
 nahatta, The continual good will I have met—the curious  
 attachment of young men to me, My reflections alone—the absorption into me from  
 the landscape, stars, animals, thunder, rain, 
 and snow, in my wanderings alone, The words of my mouth, rude, ignorant, arrogant— 
 my many faults and derelictions, 38*   [ begin page 450 ]ppp.01500.458.jpg The light touches, on my lips, of the lips of my com- 
 rades, at parting, The tracks which I leave, upon the side-walks and  
 fields, May but arrive at this beginning of me, This beginning of me—and yet it is enough, O Soul, O Soul, we have positively appeared—that is enough.   [ begin page 451 ]ppp.01500.459.jpg

So long!

¹TO conclude—I announce what comes after me, The thought must be promulged, that all I know at  
 any time suffices for that time only—not subse- 
 quent time; I announce greater offspring, orators, days, and then  
 depart. ²I remember I said to myself at the winter-close, before  
 my leaves sprang at all, that I would become a  
 candid and unloosed summer-poet, I said I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with  
 reference to consummations. ³When America does what was promised, When each part is peopled with free people, When there is no city on earth to lead my city, the  
 city of young men, the Mannahatta city—But  
 when the Mannahatta leads all the cities of the  
 earth, When there are plentiful athletic bards, inland and  
 seaboard, When through These States walk a hundred millions  
 of superb persons, When the rest part away for superb persons, and con- 
 tribute to them,   [ begin page 452 ]ppp.01500.460.jpg When fathers, firm, unconstrained, open-eyed—When  
 breeds of the most perfect mothers denote  
 America, Then to me ripeness and conclusion. ⁴Yet not me, after all—let none be content with me, I myself seek a man better than I am, or a woman  
 better than I am, I invite defiance, and to make myself superseded, All I have done, I would cheerfully give to be trod  
 under foot, if it might only be the soil of supe- 
 rior poems. ⁵I have established nothing for good, I have but established these things, till things farther  
 onward shall be prepared to be established, And I am myself the preparer of things farther  
 onward. ⁶I have pressed through in my own right, I have offered my style to every one—I have jour- 
 neyed with confident step, While my pleasure is yet at the full, I whisper  
  So long, And take the young woman's hand, and the young  
 man's hand, for the last time. ⁷Once more I enforce you to give play to yourself— 
 and not depend on me, or on any one but  
 yourself, Once more I proclaim the whole of America for each  
 individual, without exception.   [ begin page 453 ]ppp.01500.461.jpg ⁸As I have announced the true theory of the youth, 
 manhood, womanhood, of The States, I adhere  
 to it; As I have announced myself on immortality, the body, 
 procreation, hauteur, prudence, As I joined the stern crowd that still confronts the  
 President with menacing weapons—I adhere  
 to all, As I have announced each age for itself, this moment  
 I set the example. ⁹I demand the choicest edifices to destroy them; Room! room! for new far-planning draughtsmen and  
 engineers! Clear that rubbish from the building-spots and the  
 paths! ¹⁰ So long! I announce natural persons to arise, I announce justice triumphant, I announce uncompromising liberty and equality, I announce the justification of candor, and the justi- 
 fication of pride. ¹¹I announce that the identity of These States is a  
 single identity only, I announce the Union more and more compact, I announce splendors and majesties to make all the  
 previous politics of the earth insignificant. ¹²I announce adhesiveness—I say it shall be limitless, 
 unloosened,   [ begin page 454 ]ppp.01500.462.jpg I say you shall yet find the friend you was look- 
 ing for. ¹³ So long! I announce a man or woman coming—perhaps you  
 are the one, I announce a great individual, fluid as Nature, chaste, 
 affectionate, compassionate, fully armed. ¹⁴ So long! I announce a life that shall be copious, vehement, 
 spiritual, bold, And I announce an old age that shall lightly and  
 joyfully meet its translation. ¹⁵O thicker and faster! O crowding too close upon me! I foresee too much—it means more than I thought, It appears to me I am dying. ¹⁶Now throat, sound your last! Salute me—salute the future once more. Peal the  
 old cry once more. ¹⁷Screaming electric, the atmosphere using, At random glancing, each as I notice absorbing, Swiftly on, but a little while alighting, Curious enveloped messages delivering, Sparkles hot, seed ethereal, down in the dirt dropping, Myself unknowing, my commission obeying, to ques- 
 tion it never daring, To ages, and ages yet, the growth of the seed leaving,   [ begin page 455 ]ppp.01500.463.jpg To troops out of me rising—they the tasks I have set  
 promulging, To women certain whispers of myself bequeathing— 
 their affection me more clearly explaining, To young men my problems offering—no dallier I— 
 I the muscle of their brains trying, So I pass—a little time vocal, visible, contrary, Afterward, a melodious echo, passionately bent for— 
 death making me undying, The best of me then when no longer visible—for  
 toward that I have been incessantly preparing. ¹⁸What is there more, that I lag and pause, and crouch  
 extended with unshut mouth? Is there a single final farewell? ¹⁹My songs cease—I abandon them, From behind the screen where I hid, I advance per- 
 sonally. ²⁰This is no book, Who touches this, touches a man, (Is it night? Are we here alone?) It is I you hold, and who holds you, I spring from the pages into your arms—decease  
 calls me forth. ²¹O how your fingers drowse me! Your breath falls around me like dew—your pulse  
 lulls the tympans of my ears, I feel immerged from head to foot, Delicious—enough.   [ begin page 456 ]ppp.01500.464.jpg ²²Enough, O deed impromptu and secret! Enough, O gliding present! Enough, O summed-up  
 past! ²³Dear friend, whoever you are, here, take this kiss, I give it especially to you—Do not forget me, I feel like one who has done his work—I progress on, The unknown sphere, more real than I dreamed, 
 more direct, darts awakening rays about me— 
  So long! Remember my words—I love you—I depart from  
 materials, I am as one disembodied, triumphant, dead.