Leaves of Grass (1856)
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| To think of time! to think through the retro-
spection! |
| To think of today, and the ages continued hence-
forward! |
| Have you guessed you yourself would not con-
tinue? Have you dreaded those earth- beetles? |
| Have you feared the future would be nothing to
you? |
| Is today nothing? Is the beginningless past
nothing? |
| If the future is nothing, they are just as surely
nothing. |
| To 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! |
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| To think that we are now here, and bear our part! |
| Not a day passes, not a minute or second, without
an accouchement! |
| Not a day passes, not a minute or second, without
corpse! |
| The dull nights go over, and the dull days also, |
| The soreness of lying so much in bed goes over, |
| 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 cam-
phor-smell has 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. |
| The living look upon the corpse with their eye-
sight, |
| But without eye-sight lingers a different living,
and looks curiously on the corpse. |
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| To think that the rivers will come to 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! |
| To think how eager we are in building our houses! |
| To think others shall be just as eager, and we
quite indifferent! |
| I 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. |
| Slow-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. |
| Cold 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 December, |
| A hearse and stages, other vehicles give place —
the funeral of an old Broadway stage-driver, the cortege mostly drivers. |
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| Rapid the trot to the cemetery, duly rattles the
death-bell, the gate is passed, the grave is halted at, the living alight, the hearse uncloses, |
| The coffin is lowered and settled, the whip is laid
on the coffin, the earth is swiftly shovelled in —a minute, no one moves or speaks—it is done, |
| He is decently put away—is there anything
more? |
| He was a good fellow, free-mouthed, quick-tem-
pered, 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, played some, 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. |
| Thumb extended, finger uplifted, apron, cape,
gloves, strap, wet-weather clothes, whip care- fully 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, |
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| To think that these are so much and so nigh to
other drivers—and he there takes no interest in them! |
| The 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! |
| The 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 oth-
ers, yet we lie beyond the difference! |
| To 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, |
| But in due time you and I shall take less interest
in them. |
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| Your farm, profits, crops—to think how engrossed
you are! |
| To think there will still be farms, profits, crops —
yet for you, of what avail? |
| What will be, will be well—for what is, is well, |
| To take interest is well, and not to take interest
shall be well. |
| The sky continues beautiful, the pleasure of men
with women shall never be sated, nor the pleasure of women with men, nor the pleas- ure from poems, |
| The domestic joys, the daily house-work or busi-
ness, the building of houses—these are not phantasms, 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. |
| You are not thrown to the winds—you gather
certainly and safely around yourself, |
| Yourself! Yourself! Yourself, forever and ever! |
| It is not to diffuse you that you were born of your
mother and father—it is to identify you, |
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| It is not that you should be undecided, but that
you should be decided; |
| Something long preparing and formless is arrived
and formed in you, |
| You are thenceforth secure, whatever comes or
goes. |
| The threads that were spun are gathered, the weft
crosses the warp, the pattern is systematic. |
| The preparations have every one been justified, |
| The orchestra have tuned their instruments suffi-
ciently, the baton has given the signal. |
| The 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. |
| The 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
eternal! |
| The law of promotion and transformation cannot
be eluded! |
| The law of heroes and good-doers cannot be
eluded! |
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| The law of drunkards, informers, mean persons,
cannot be eluded! |
| Slow-moving and black lines go ceaselessly over
the earth, |
| Northerner goes carried, and southerner goes car-
ried, 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. |
| The 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. |
| The 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, |
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| The prostitute is not nothing—the mocker of re-
ligion is not nothing as he goes. |
| I 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. |
| And I have dreamed that the satisfaction is not so
much changed, and that there is no life without satisfaction; |
| What is the earth? what are body and soul, with-
out satisfaction? |
| I 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. |
| If otherwise, all these things came but to ashes
of dung, |
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| If maggots and rats ended us, then suspicion,
treachery, death. |
| Do 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? |
| Pleasantly 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. |
| How 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. |
| My soul! if I realize you, I have satisfaction, |
| Animals and vegetables! if I realize you, I have
satisfaction, |
| Laws of the earth and air! if I realize you, I
have satisfaction. |
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| I cannot define my satisfaction, yet it is so, |
| I cannot define my life, yet it is so. |
| O I swear I think now that every thing has an
eternal soul! |
| The trees have, rooted in the ground! the weeds
of the sea have! the animals! |
| I swear I think there is nothing but immortality! |
| That the exquisite scheme is for it, and the nebu-
lous 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 for it! |