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1.

OF these years I sing,
How they pass through convuls'd pains, as through
parturitions;
How America illustrates birth, gigantic youth, the
promise, the sure fulfilment, despite of people
—Illustrates evil as well as good;
How many hold despairingly yet to the models de-
parted, 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 unform'd, 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 convuls'd, and serve other par-
turitions and transitions,
And how all people, sights, combinations, the Demo-
cratic masses, too, serve—and how every fact
serves,


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And how now, or at any time, each serves the exquisite
transition of Death.

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