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Leaves of Grass (1856)
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12—Poem of The Road.
A FOOT and light-hearted I take to the open
road!
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| Healthy, free, the world before me! |
The long brown path before me, leading wherever
I choose!
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Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I am good-
fortune,
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Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more,
need nothing,
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| Strong and content, I travel the open road. |
| The 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. |
| Still here I carry my old delicious burdens, |
I carry them, men and women—I carry them
with me wherever I go,
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| I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them, |
I am filled with them, and I will fill them in
return.
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You road I travel and look around! I believe you
are not all that is here!
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| I believe that something unseen is also here. |
Here is the profound lesson of reception, neither
preference or denial,
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The black with his woolly head, the felon, the
diseased, the illiterate person, are not de-
nied,
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The birth, the hasting after the physician, the
beggar's tramp, the drunkard's stagger, the
laughing party of mechanics,
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The escaped youth, the rich person's carriage, the
fop, the eloping couple,
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The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of
furniture into the town, the return back from
the town,
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They pass, I also pass, any thing passes, none can
be interdicted,
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| None but are accepted, none but are dear to me. |
| You air that serves me with breath to speak! |
You objects that call from diffusion my meanings
and give them shape!
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You light that wraps me and all things in delicate
equable showers!
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| You animals moving serenely over the earth! |
You birds that wing yourselves through the air!
you insects!
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You sprouting growths from the farmers' fields!
you stalks and weeds by the fences!
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You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the
road-sides!
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I think you are latent with curious existences —
you are so dear to me.
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You flagged walks of the cities! you strong curbs
at the edges!
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You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves!
you timber-lined sides! you distant ships!
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You rows of houses! you window-pierced facades!
you roofs!
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You porches and entrances! you copings and iron
guards!
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You windows whose transparent shells might
expose so much!
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| You doors and ascending steps! you arches! |
You gray stones of interminable pavements! you
trodden crossings!
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From all that has been near you I believe you
have imparted to yourselves, and now would
impart the same secretly to me,
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From the living and the dead I think you have
peopled your impassive surfaces, and the
spirits thereof would be evident and ami-
cable with me.
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| The earth expanding right hand and left hand, |
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| The picture alive, every part in its best light, |
The music falling in where it is wanted, and
stopping where it is not wanted,
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The cheerful voice of the public road—the gay
fresh sentiment of the road.
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O highway I travel! O public road! do you say
to me, Do not leave me?
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Do you say, Venture not? If you leave me, you
are lost?
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Do you say, I am already prepared—I am well-
beaten and undenied—Adhere to me?
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O public road! I say back, I am not afraid to
leave you—yet I love you,
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| You express me better than I can express myself, |
| You shall be more to me than my poem. |
I think heroic deeds were all conceived in the
open air,
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| I think I could stop here myself, and do miracles, |
I think whatever I meet on the road I shall like,
and whatever beholds me shall like me,
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| I think whoever I see must be happy. |
From this hour, I ordain myself loosed of limits
and imaginary lines!
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Going where I list—my own master, total and
absolute,
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Listening to others, and considering well what
they say,
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| Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, |
Gently but with undeniable will divesting myself
of the holds that would hold me.
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| I inhale great draughts of air, |
The east and the west are mine, and the north
and the south are mine.
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| I am larger than I thought! |
| I did not know I held so much goodness! |
| All 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.
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| I will recruit for myself and you as I go, |
I will scatter myself among men and women as
I go,
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I will toss the new gladness and roughness among
them;
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| Whoever denies me, it shall not trouble me, |
Whoever accepts me, he or she shall be blessed,
and shall bless me.
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Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear,
it would not amaze me,
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Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women ap-
peared, it would not astonish me.
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Now I see the secret of the making of the best
persons,
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It is to grow in the open air, and to eat and
sleep with the earth.
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Here is space—here a great personal deed has
room,
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A great deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole
race of men,
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Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law,
and mocks all authority and all argument
against it.
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| Here is the test of wisdom, |
| Wisdom is not finally tested in schools, |
Wisdom cannot be passed from one having it, to
another not having it,
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Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof,
is its own proof,
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Applies to all stages and objects and qualities, and
is content,
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Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of
things, and the excellence of things,
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Something there is in the float of the sight of
things that provokes it out of the soul.
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| Now I re-examine 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.
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Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he
has in him,
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The animals, the past, the future, light, space,
majesty, love, if they are vacant of you, you
are vacant of them.
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| Only the kernel of every object nourishes; |
Where is he who tears off the husks for you and
me?
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Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes
for you and me?
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Here is adhesiveness—it is not previously
fashioned, it is apropos;
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Do you know what it is as you pass to be loved
by strangers?
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| Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls? |
| Here is the efflux of the soul, |
The efflux of the soul comes through beautiful
gates of laws, provoking questions,
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These yearnings, why are they? these thoughts
in the darkness, why are they?
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Why are there men and women that while they
are nigh me the sun-light expands my blood?
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Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy
sink flat and lank?
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Why are there trees I never walk under but large
and melodious thoughts descend upon me?
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(I think they hang there winter and summer on
those trees, and always drop fruit as I pass;)
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What is it I interchange so suddenly with stran-
gers?
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What with some driver as I ride on the seat by
his side?
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What with some fisherman, drawing his seine by
the shore, as I walk by and pause?
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What gives me to be free to a woman's or man's
good-will? What gives them to be free to
mine?
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The efflux of the soul is happiness—here is
happiness,
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| I think it pervades the air, waiting at all times, |
| Now it flows into us—we are rightly charged. |
| Here rises the fluid and attaching character; |
The fluid and attaching character is the freshness
and sweetness of man and woman,
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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.
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Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes
the sweat of the love of young and old,
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From it falls distilled the charm that mocks beauty
and attainments,
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Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of
contact.
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Allons! Whoever you are, come travel with
me!
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| Traveling with me, you find what never tires. |
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at
first—nature is rude and incomprehensible
at first,
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Be not discouraged—keep on—there are divine
things, well enveloped,
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I swear to you there are divine things more beau-
tiful than words can tell!
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| Allons! We must not stop here! |
However sweet these laid-up stores, however
convenient this dwelling, we cannot remain
here!
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However sheltered this port, however calm these
waters, we must not anchor here!
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However welcome the hospitality that surrounds
us, we are permitted to receive it but a little
while.
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| Allons! 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.
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Allons! With power, liberty, the earth, the
elements!
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| Health, defiance, gaiety, self-esteem, curiosity! |
| Allons! From all formulas! |
From your formulas, O bat-eyed and materialistic
priests!
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The stale cadaver blocks up the passage—the
burial waits no longer.
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| Allons! Yet take warning! |
He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews,
endurance,
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None may come to the trial till he or she bring
courage and health.
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Come not here if you have already spent the best
of yourself!
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Only those may come who come in sweet and
determined bodies,
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No diseased person—no rum-drinker or venereal
taint is permitted here,
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I and mine do not convince by arguments,
similes, rhymes,
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| We convince by our presence. |
| Listen! I will be honest with you, |
I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer
rough new prizes,
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| These are the days that must happen to you: |
| You shall not heap up what is called riches, |
You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you
earn or achieve,
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You but arrive at the city to which you were
destined—you hardly settle yourself to satis-
faction, before you are called by an irresistible
call to depart,
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You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and
mockings of those who remain behind you,
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What beckonings of love you receive, you shall
only answer with passionate kisses of parting,
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You shall not allow the hold of those who spread
their reached hands toward you.
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Allons! After the great companions! and to be-
long to them!
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They too are on the road! they are the swift and
majestic men! they are the greatest women!
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Over that which hindered them, over that which
retarded, passing impediments large or small,
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Committers of crimes, committers of many beauti-
ful virtues,
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| Enjoyers of calms of seas, and storms of seas, |
Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of
land,
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Habitues of many different countries, habitues of
far-distant dwellings,
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Trusters of men and women, observers of cities,
solitary toilers,
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Pausers and contemplaters of tufts, blossoms, shells
of the shore,
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Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides,
tender helpers of children, bearers of children,
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Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves,
lowerers down of coffins,
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Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the
years—the curious years, each emerging
from that which preceded it,
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Journeyers as with companions, namely, their own
diverse phases,
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Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-
days,
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Journeyers gaily with their own youth—journey-
ers with their bearded and well-grained
manhood,
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Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsur-
passed, content,
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Journeyers with their sublime old age of manhood
or womanhood,
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Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty
breadth of the universe,
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Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by
freedom of death.
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Allons! to that which is endless as it was
beginningless!
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| 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!
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Again to merge them in the start of superior
journeys!
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To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach
it and pass it!
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To conceive no time, however distant, but what
you may reach it and pass it!
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To look up or down no road but it stretches and
waits for you! however long, but it stretches
and waits for you!
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To see no being, not God's or any, but you also
go thither!
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To see no possession but you may possess it!
enjoying all without labor or purchase —
abstracting the feast, yet not abstracting one
particle of it;
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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
orchards and flowers of gardens!
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To take to your use out of the compact cities as
you pass through!
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To carry buildings and streets with you afterward
wherever you go!
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To gather the minds of men out of their brains as
you encounter them! to gather the love out
of their hearts!
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To take your own lovers on the road with
you, for all that you leave them behind
you!
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To know the universe itself as a road—as many
roads—as roads for traveling souls!
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| 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.
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| All 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 processions of souls along the grand roads
of the universe,
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Of the progress of the souls of men and women
along the grand roads of the universe, all
other progress is the needed emblem and
sustenance.
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| Forever alive, forever forward, |
Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad,
turbulent, feeble, dissatisfied,
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Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men,
rejected by men,
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They go! they go! I know that they go, but I
know not where they go,
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| But I know that they go toward the best— |
| Allons! Whoever you are! come forth! |
You must not stay in your house, though you built
it, or though it has been built for you.
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| Allons! out of the dark confinement! |
| It is useless to protest—I know all, and expose it. |
| Behold through you as bad as the rest! |
Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of
people,
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Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those
washed and trimmed faces,
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| Behold a secret silent loathing and despair! |
No husband, no wife, no friend, no lover, so
trusted as to hear the confession,
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Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and
hiding it goes, open and above-board it goes,
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Formless and wordless through the streets of the
cities, polite and bland in the parlors,
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In the cars of rail-roads, in steam-boats, in the
public assembly,
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Home to the houses of men and women, among
their families, at the table, in the bed-room,
every where,
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Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright,
death under the breast-bones, hell under the
skull-bones,
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Under the broad-cloth and gloves, under the
ribbons and artificial flowers,
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Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a
syllable of itself,
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| Speaking of anything else, but never of itself. |
| Allons! through struggles and wars! |
The goal that was named cannot be counter-
manded.
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| Have the past struggles succeeded? |
What has succeeded? Yourself? Your nation?
Nature?
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Now understand me well—it is provided in the
essence of things, that from any fruition of
success, no matter what, shall come forth
something to make a greater struggle neces-
sary.
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My call is the call of battle—I nourish active
rebellion,
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| He going with me must go well armed, |
He going with me goes often with spare diet,
poverty, angry enemies, contentions.
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| Allons! the road is before us! |
It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have
tried it well.
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Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and
the book on the shelf unopened!
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Let the tools remain in the work-shop! let the
money remain unearned!
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Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the
teacher!
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Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the
lawyer plead in the court, and the judge
expound the law!
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| Mon 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?
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| Shall we stick by each other as long as we live? |
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