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RISE, O days, from your fathomless deeps, till you loftier
and fiercer sweep! |
|
Long for my soul, hungering gymnastic, I devour'd
what the earth gave me; |
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Long I roam'd the woods of the north—long I watch'd
Niagara pouring; |
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I travel'd the prairies over, and slept on their breast—I
cross'd the Nevadas, I cross'd the plateaus; |
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I ascended the towering rocks along the Pacific, I sail'd
out to sea; |
| I sail'd through the storm, I was refresh'd by the storm; |
| I watch'd with joy the threatening maws of the waves; |
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I mark'd the white combs where they career'd so high,
curling over; |
| I heard the wind piping, I saw the black clouds; |
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Saw from below what arose and mounted, (O superb! O
wild as my heart, and powerful!) |
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Heard the continuous thunder, as it bellow'd after the
lightning; |
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Noted the slender and jagged threads of lightning, as
sudden and fast amid the din they chased each other across the sky; |
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—These, and such as these, I, elate, saw—saw with
wonder, yet pensive and masterful; |
| All the menacing might of the globe uprisen around me; |
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Yet there with my soul I fed—I fed content, super-
cilious. |
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'Twas well, O soul! 'twas a good preparation you gave
me! |
| Now we advance our latent and ampler hunger to fill; |
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Now we go forth to receive what the earth and the sea
never gave us; |
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Not through the mighty woods we go, but through the
mightier cities; |
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Something for us is pouring now, more than Niagara
pouring; |
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Torrents of men, (sources and rills of the Northwest, are
you indeed inexhaustible?) |
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What, to pavements and homesteads here—what were
those storms of the mountains and sea? |
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What, to passions I witness around me to-day? Was
the sea risen? |
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Was the wind piping the pipe of death under the black
clouds? |
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Lo! from deeps more unfathomable, something more
deadly and savage; |
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Manhattan, rising, advancing with menacing front—
Cincinnati, Chicago, unchain'd; |
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—What was that swell I saw on the ocean? behold
what comes here! |
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How it climbs with daring feet and hands! how it
dashes! |
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How the true thunder bellows after the lightning! how
bright the flashes of lightning! |
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How DEMOCRACY, with desperate vengeful port strides
on, shown through the dark by those flashes of lightning! |
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(Yet a mournful wail and low sob I fancied I heard
through the dark, |
| In a lull of the deafening confusion.) |
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Thunder on! stride on Democracy! strike with vengeful
stroke! |
| And do you rise higher than ever yet, O days, O cities! |
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Crash heavier, heavier yet, O storms! you have done
me good; |
|
My soul, prepared in the mountains, absorbs your im-
mortal strong nutriment; |
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Long had I walk'd my cities, my country roads, through
farms, only half satisfied; |
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One doubt, nauseous, undulating like a snake, crawl'd
on the ground before me, |
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Continually preceding my steps, turning upon me oft,
ironically hissing low; |
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—The cities I loved so well, I abandon'd and left—I
sped to the certainties suitable to me; |
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Hungering, hungering, hungering, for primal energies,
and Nature's dauntlessness, |
| I refresh'd myself with it only, I could relish it only; |
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I waited the bursting forth of the pent fire—on the
water and air I waited long; |
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—But now I no longer wait—I am fully satisfied—I
am glutted; |
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I have witness'd the true lighting—I have witness'd
my cities electric; |
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I have lived to behold man burst forth, and warlike
America rise; |
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Hence I will seek no more the food of the northern soli-
tary wilds, |
| No more on the mountains roam, or sail the stormy sea. |