|
| 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. |
| 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 attain'd on the journey; |
| (But I see the road continued, and the journey ever
continued;) |
| Of what was once lacking on 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. |
|
| 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 unwit-
tingly 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. |
| 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 harm'd 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 anything but the
same ample law, expounded by natural judges and saviors, |
| As if it might be this thing or that thing, according
to decisions. |
| 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 generations,
founder'd off the Northeast coast, and going down—Of the steamship Arctic going down, |
| Of the veil'd tableau—Women gather'd together on
deck, pale, heroic, waiting the moment that draws so close—O the moment! |
| 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 drown'd and destroy'd so? |
| Is only matter triumphant? |
| 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. |
| OF obedience, faith, adhesiveness; |
| As I stand aloof and look, there is to me something
profoundly affecting in large masses of men, following the lead of those who do not believe in men. |