| 
Leaves of Grass (1867) 
 
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SONG OF THE BROAD-AXE.
 
 
1
 
| 1  WEAPON, shapely, naked, wan; | 
 
 
| Head from the mother's bowels drawn! | 
 
 
Wooded flesh and metal bone! limb only one, and lip 
 
         only one!
 
 | 
 
 
Gray-blue leaf by red-heat grown! helve produced from 
 
         a little seed sown!
 
 | 
 
 
| Resting the grass amid and upon, | 
 
 
| To be lean'd, and to lean on. | 
 
 
 
2  Strong shapes, and attributes of strong shapes— 
 
         masculine trades, sights and sounds; 
 
 | 
 
 
| Long varied train of an emblem, dabs of music; | 
 
 
Fingers of the organist skipping staccato over the keys 
 
         of the great organ.
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
2
 
| 3  Welcome are all earth's lands, each for its kind; | 
 
 
| Welcome are lands of pine and oak; | 
 
 
| Welcome are lands of the lemon and fig; | 
 
 
| Welcome are lands of gold; | 
 
 
Welcome are lands of wheat and maize—welcome 
 
         those of the grape; 
 
 | 
 
 
| Welcome are lands of sugar and rice; | 
 
 
Welcome the cotton-lands—welcome those of the white 
 
         potato and sweet potato; 
 
 | 
 
 
| Welcome are mountains, flats, sands, forests, prairies; | 
 
 
Welcome the rich borders of rivers, table-lands,
 
         openings; 
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
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Welcome the measureless grazing-lands—welcome the 
 
         teeming soil of orchards, flax, honey, hemp; 
 
 | 
 
 
Welcome just as much the other more hard-faced 
 
         lands; 
 
 | 
 
 
| Lands rich as lands of gold, or wheat and fruit lands; | 
 
 
| Lands of mines, lands of the manly and rugged ores; | 
 
 
| Lands of coal, copper, lead, tin, zinc; | 
 
 
| LANDS OF IRON! lands of the make of the axe! | 
 
 
 
 
3
 
| 4  The log at the wood-pile, the axe supported by it; | 
 
 
The sylvan hut, the vine over the doorway, the space 
 
         clear'd for a garden,
 
 | 
 
 
The irregular tapping of rain down on the leaves,
 
         after the storm is lull'd,
 
 | 
 
 
The wailing and moaning at intervals, the thought of 
 
         the sea,
 
 | 
 
 
The thought of ships struck in the storm, and put on 
 
         their beam-ends, and the cutting away of 
 
         masts; 
 
 | 
 
 
The sentiment of the huge timbers of old-fashion'd 
 
         houses and barns; 
 
 | 
 
 
The remember'd print or narrative, the voyage at a 
 
         venture of men, families, goods,
 
 | 
 
 
| The disembarkation, the founding of a new city, | 
 
 
The voyage of those who sought a New England and 
 
         found it—the outset anywhere,
 
 | 
 
 
The settlements of the Arkansas, Colorado, Ottawa,
 
         Willamette,
 
 | 
 
 
The slow progress, the scant fare, the axe, rifle, saddle-
 
         bags; 
 
 | 
 
 
| The beauty of all adventurous and daring persons, | 
 
 
The beauty of wood-boys and wood-men, with their 
 
         clear untrimm'd faces,
 
 | 
 
 
The beauty of independence, departure, actions that 
 
         rely on themselves,
 
 | 
 
 
The American contempt for statutes and ceremonies,
 
         the boundless impatience of restraint,
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
View Page 171
 | 
 
 
The loose drift of character, the inkling through ran-
 
         dom types, the solidification; 
 
 | 
 
 
The butcher in the slaughter-house, the hands aboard 
 
         schooners and sloops, the raftsman, the pioneer,
 
 | 
 
 
Lumbermen in their winter camp, day-break in the 
 
         woods, stripes of snow on the limbs of trees,
 
         the occasional snapping,
 
 | 
 
 
The glad clear sound of one's own voice, the merry 
 
         song, the natural life of the woods, the strong 
 
         day's work,
 
 | 
 
 
The blazing fire at night, the sweet taste of supper 
 
         the talk, the bed of hemlock boughs, and the 
 
         bear-skin; 
 
 | 
 
 
| —The house-builder at work in cities or anywhere, | 
 
 
| The preparatory jointing, squaring, sawing, mortising, | 
 
 
The hoist-up of beams, the push of them in their 
 
         places, laying them regular,
 
 | 
 
 
Setting the studs by their tenons in the mortises, ac-
 
         cording as they were prepared,
 
 | 
 
 
The blows of mallets and hammers, the attitudes of 
 
         the men, their curv'd limbs,
 
 | 
 
 
Bending, standing, astride the beams, driving in pins,
 
         holding on by posts and braces,
 
 | 
 
 
The hook'd arm over the plate, the other arm wielding 
 
         the axe,
 
 | 
 
 
| The floor-men forcing the planks close, to be nail'd, | 
 
 
Their postures bringing their weapons downward on 
 
         the bearers,
 
 | 
 
 
| The echoes resounding through the vacant building; | 
 
 
The huge store-house carried up in the city, well 
 
         under way,
 
 | 
 
 
The six framing-men, two in the middle, and two at 
 
         each end, carefully bearing on their shoulders 
 
         a heavy stick for a cross-beam,
 
 | 
 
 
The crowded line of masons with trowels in their 
 
         right hands, rapidly laying the long side-wall,
 
         two hundred feet from front to rear,
 
 | 
 
 
The flexible rise and fall of backs, the continual click 
 
         of the trowels striking the bricks,
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
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 | 
 
 
The bricks, one after another, each laid so workman-
 
         like in its place, and set with a knock of the 
 
         trowel-handle,
 
 | 
 
 
The piles of materials, the mortar on the mortar-
 
         boards, and the steady replenishing by the hod-
 
         men; 
 
 | 
 
 
—Spar-makers in the spar-yard, the swarming row of 
 
         well-grown apprentices,
 
 | 
 
 
The swing of their axes on the square-hew'd log,
 
         shaping it toward the shape of a mast,
 
 | 
 
 
The brisk short crackle of the steel driven slantingly 
 
         into the pine,
 
 | 
 
 
The butter-color'd chips flying off in great flakes and 
 
         slivers,
 
 | 
 
 
The limber motion of brawny young arms and hips in 
 
         easy costumes; 
 
 | 
 
 
The constructor of wharves, bridges, piers, bulk-heads,
 
         floats, stays against the sea; 
 
 | 
 
 
—The city fireman—the fire that suddenly bursts forth 
 
         in the close-pack'd square,
 
 | 
 
 
The arriving engines, the hoarse shouts, the nimble 
 
         stepping and daring,
 
 | 
 
 
The strong command through the fire-trumpets, the 
 
         falling in line, the rise and fall of the arms 
 
         forcing the water,
 
 | 
 
 
The slender, spasmic blue-white jets—the bringing to 
 
         bear of the hooks and ladders, and their 
 
         execution,
 
 | 
 
 
The crash and cut away of connecting wood-work, or 
 
         through floors, if the fire smoulders under 
 
         them,
 
 | 
 
 
The crowd with their lit faces, watching—the glare 
 
         and dense shadows; 
 
 | 
 
 
—The forger at his forge-furnace, and the user of iron 
 
         after him,
 
 | 
 
 
The maker of the axe large and small, and the welder 
 
         and temperer,
 
 | 
 
 
The chooser breathing his breath on the cold steel.
 
         and trying the edge with his thumb,
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
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The one who clean-shapes the handle and sets it 
 
         firmly in the socket; 
 
 | 
 
 
The shadowy processions of the portraits of the past 
 
         users also,
 
 | 
 
 
The primal patient mechanics, the architects and 
 
         engineers,
 
 | 
 
 
| The far-off Assyrian edifice and Mizra edifice, | 
 
 
| The Roman lictors preceding the consuls, | 
 
 
| The antique European warrior with his axe in combat, | 
 
 
The uplifted arm, the clatter of blows on the helmeted 
 
         head,
 
 | 
 
 
The death-howl, the limpsey tumbling body, the rush 
 
         of friend and foe thither,
 
 | 
 
 
| The seige of revolted lieges determin'd for liberty, | 
 
 
The summons to surrender, the battering at castle 
 
         gates, the truce and parley; 
 
 | 
 
 
| The sack of an old city in its time, | 
 
 
The bursting in of mercenaries and bigots tumultuously 
 
         and disorderly,
 
 | 
 
 
| Roar, flames, blood, drunkenness, madness, | 
 
 
Goods freely rifled from houses and temples, screams 
 
         of women in the gripe of brigands,
 
 | 
 
 
Craft and thievery of camp-followers, men running, old 
 
         persons despairing,
 
 | 
 
 
| The hell of war, the cruelties of creeds, | 
 
 
The list of all executive deeds and words, just or un-
 
         just,
 
 | 
 
 
| The power of personality, just or unjust. | 
 
 
 
 
4
 
| 5  Muscle and pluck forever! | 
 
 
| What invigorates life, invigorates death, | 
 
 
| And the dead advance as much as the living advance, | 
 
 
| And the future is no more uncertain than the present, | 
 
 
And the roughness of the earth and of man encloses 
 
         as much as the delicatesse of the earth and of 
 
         man,
 
 | 
 
 
| And nothing endures but personal qualities. | 
 
 
 
 
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| 6  What do you think endures? | 
 
 
| Do you think the great city endures? | 
 
 
Or a teeming manufacturing state? or a prepared con-
 
         stitution? or the best built steamships?
 
 | 
 
 
Or hotels of granite and iron? or any chef-d'eouvres of 
 
         engineering, forts, armaments?
 
 | 
 
 
 
| 7  Away! These are not to be cherish'd for themselves; | 
 
 
They fill their hour, the dancers dance, the musicians 
 
         play for them; 
 
 | 
 
 
| The show passes, all does well enough of course, | 
 
 
| All does very well till one flash of defiance. | 
 
 
 
8  The great city is that which has the greatest man or 
 
         woman; 
 
 | 
 
 
If it be a few ragged huts, it is still the greatest city in 
 
         the whole world.
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
5
 
9  The place where the great city stands is not the 
 
         place of stretch'd wharves, docks, manufactures,
 
         deposits of produce,
 
 | 
 
 
Nor the place of ceaseless salutes of new comers, or 
 
         the anchor-lifters of the departing,
 
 | 
 
 
Nor the place of the tallest and costliest buildings, or 
 
         shops selling goods from the rest of the earth,
 
 | 
 
 
Nor the place of the best libraries and schools—nor 
 
         the place where money is plentiest,
 
 | 
 
 
| Nor the place of the most numerous population. | 
 
 
 
10  Where the city stands with the brawniest breed of 
 
         orators and bards; 
 
 | 
 
 
Where the city stands that is beloved by these, and 
 
         loves them in return, and understands them; 
 
 | 
 
 
Where no monuments exist to heroes, but in the 
 
         common words and deeds; 
 
 | 
 
 
Where thrift is in its place, and prudence is in its 
 
         place; 
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
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| Where the men and women think lightly of the laws; | 
 
 
| Where the slave ceases, and the master of slaves ceases; | 
 
 
Where the populace rise at once against the never-
 
         ending audacity of elected persons; 
 
 | 
 
 
Where fierce men and women pour forth, as the sea 
 
         to the whistle of death pours its sweeping and 
 
         unript waves; 
 
 | 
 
 
Where outside authority enters always after the pre-
 
         cedence of inside authority; 
 
 | 
 
 
Where the citizen is always the head and ideal—and 
 
         President, Mayor, Governor, and what not, are 
 
         agents for pay; 
 
 | 
 
 
Where children are taught to be laws to themselves,
 
         and to depend on themselves; 
 
 | 
 
 
| Where equanimity is illustrated in affairs; | 
 
 
| Where speculations on the Soul are encouraged; | 
 
 
Where women walk in public processions in the streets,
 
         the same as the men,
 
 | 
 
 
Where they enter the public assembly and take places 
 
         the same as the men; 
 
 | 
 
 
| Where the city of the faithfulest friends stands; | 
 
 
| Where the city of the cleanliness of the sexes stands; | 
 
 
| Where the city of the healthiest fathers stands; | 
 
 
| Where the city of the best-bodied mothers stands, | 
 
 
| There the great city stands. | 
 
 
 
 
6
 
11  How beggarly appear arguments, before a defiant 
 
         deed!
 
 | 
 
 
How the floridness of the materials of cities shrivels 
 
         before a man's or woman's look!
 
 | 
 
 
 
12  All waits, or goes by default, till a strong being ap-
 
         pears; 
 
 | 
 
 
A strong being is the proof of the race, and of the 
 
         ability of the universe; 
 
 | 
 
 
| When he or she appears, materials are overaw'd, | 
 
 
| The dispute on the Soul stops, | 
 
 
 
 
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The old customs and phrases are confronted, turn'd 
 
         back, or laid away.
 
 | 
 
 
 
13  What is your money-making now? What can it do 
 
         now?
 
 | 
 
 
| What is your respectability now? | 
 
 
What are your theology, tuition, society, traditions,
 
         statute-books, now?
 
 | 
 
 
| Where are your jibes of being now? | 
 
 
| Where are your cavils about the Soul now? | 
 
 
 
14  Was that your best? Were those your vast and 
 
         solid?
 
 | 
 
 
Riches, opinions, politics, institutions, to part obedi-
 
         ently from the path of one man or woman!
 
 | 
 
 
The centuries, and all authority, to be trod under the 
 
         foot-soles of one man or woman!
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
7
 
15  A sterile landscape covers the ore—there is as good 
 
         as the best, for all the forbidding appearance; 
 
 | 
 
 
| There is the mine, there are the miners; | 
 
 
The forge-furnace is there, the melt is accomplish'd; 
 
         the hammers-men are at hand with their tongs 
 
         and hammers; 
 
 | 
 
 
| What always served and always serves, is at hand. | 
 
 
 
16  Than this nothing has better served—it has served 
 
         all: 
 
 | 
 
 
Served the fluent-tongued and subtle-sensed Greek,
 
         and long ere the Greek: 
 
 | 
 
 
Served in building the buildings that last longer than 
 
         any; 
 
 | 
 
 
Served the Hebrew, the Persian, the most ancient 
 
         Hindostanee; 
 
 | 
 
 
Served the mound-raiser on the Mississippi—served 
 
         those whose relics remain in Central America; 
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
View Page 177
 | 
 
 
Served Albic temples in woods or on plains, with un-
 
         hewn pillars, and the druids; 
 
 | 
 
 
Served the artificial clefts, vast, high, silent, on the 
 
         snow-cover'd hills of Scandinavia; 
 
 | 
 
 
Served those who, time out of mind, made on the 
 
         granite walls rough sketches of the sun, moon,
 
         stars, ships, ocean-waves; 
 
 | 
 
 
Served the paths of the irruptions of the Goths— 
 
         served the pastoral tribes and nomads; 
 
 | 
 
 
Served the long, long distant Kelt—served the hardy 
 
         pirates of the Baltic; 
 
 | 
 
 
Served before any of those, the venerable and harm-
 
         less men of Ethiopia; 
 
 | 
 
 
Served the making of helms for the galleys of plea-
 
         sure, and the making of those for war; 
 
 | 
 
 
Served all great works on land, and all great works on 
 
         the sea; 
 
 | 
 
 
| For the mediæval ages, and before the mediæval ages; | 
 
 
Served not the living only, then as now, but served the 
 
         dead.
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
8
 
| 17  I see the European headsman; | 
 
 
He stands mask'd, clothed in red, with huge legs, and 
 
         strong naked arms,
 
 | 
 
 
| And leans on a ponderous axe. | 
 
 
 
18  Whom have you slaughter'd lately, European heads-
 
         man?
 
 | 
 
 
| Whose is that blood upon you, so wet and sticky? | 
 
 
 
| 19  I see the clear sunsets of the martyrs; | 
 
 
| I see from the scaffolds the descending ghosts, | 
 
 
Ghosts of dead lords, uncrown'd ladies, impeach'd 
 
         ministers, rejected kings,
 
 | 
 
 
Rivals, traitors, poisoners, disgraced chieftains, and 
 
         the rest.
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
View Page 178
 | 
 
 
 
20  I see those who in any land have died for the 
 
         good cause; 
 
 | 
 
 
The seed is spare, nevertheless the crop shall never run 
 
         out; 
 
 | 
 
 
(Mind you, O foreign kings, O priests, the crop shall 
 
         never run out.)
 
 | 
 
 
 
| 21  I see the blood wash'd entirely away from the axe; | 
 
 
| Both blade and helve are clean; | 
 
 
They spirt no more the blood of European nobles— 
 
         they clasp no more the necks of queens.
 
 | 
 
 
 
| 22  I see the headsman withdraw and become useless; | 
 
 
I see the scaffold untrodden and mouldy—I see no 
 
         longer any axe upon it; 
 
 | 
 
 
I see the mighty and friendly emblem of the power of 
 
         my own race—the newest, largest race.
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
9
 
| 23  & America! I do not vaunt my love for you; | 
 
 
 
| The solid forest gives fluid utterances; | 
 
 
| They tumble forth, they rise and form, | 
 
 
| Hut, tent, landing, survey, | 
 
 
| Flail, plough, pick, crowbar, spade, | 
 
 
| Shingle, rail, prop, wainscot, jamb, lath, panel, gable, | 
 
 
Citadel, ceiling, saloon, academy, organ, exhibition-
 
         house, library,
 
 | 
 
 
Cornice, trellis, pilaster, balcony, window, shutter, tur-
 
         ret, porch,
 
 | 
 
 
Hoe, rake, pitch-fork, pencil, wagon, staff, saw, jack-
 
         plane, mallet, wedge, rounce,
 
 | 
 
 
| Chair, tub, hoop, table, wicket, vane, sash, floor, | 
 
 
Work-box, chest, string'd instrument, boat, frame, and 
 
         what not,
 
 | 
 
 
| Capitols of States, and capitol of the nation of States, | 
 
 
 
 
View Page 179
 | 
 
 
Long stately rows in avenues, hospitals for orphans, or 
 
         for the poor or sick,
 
 | 
 
 
Manhattan steamboats and clippers, taking the meas-
 
         ure of all seas.
 
 | 
 
 
 
Shapes of the using of axes anyhow, and the users,
 
         and all that neighbors them,
 
 | 
 
 
Cutters down of wood, and haulers of it to the Penob-
 
         scot or Kennebec,
 
 | 
 
 
Dwellers in cabins among the Californian mountains,
 
         or by the little lakes, or on the Columbia,
 
 | 
 
 
Dwellers south on the banks of the Gila or Rio Grande 
 
         —friendly gatherings, the characters and fun,
 
 | 
 
 
Dwellers up north in Minnesota and by the Yellow-
 
         stone river—dwellers on coasts and off coasts,
 
 | 
 
 
Seal-fishers, whalers, arctic seamen breaking passages 
 
         through the ice.
 
 | 
 
 
 
| Shapes of factories, arsenals, foundries, markets; | 
 
 
| Shapes of the two-threaded tracks of railroads; | 
 
 
Shapes of the sleepers of bridges, vast frameworks,
 
         girders, arches; 
 
 | 
 
 
Shapes of the fleets of barges, tows, lake craft, river 
 
         craft.
 
 | 
 
 
 
Ship-yards and dry-docks along the Eastern and West-
 
         ern Seas, and in many a bay and by-place,
 
 | 
 
 
The live-oak kelsons, the pine planks, the spars, the 
 
         hackmatack-roots for knees,
 
 | 
 
 
The ships themselves on their ways, the tiers of scaf-
 
         folds, the workmen busy outside and inside,
 
 | 
 
 
The tools lying around, the great auger and little au-
 
         ger, the adze, bolt, line, square, gouge, and bead-
 
         plane.
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
View Page 180
 | 
 
 
 
 
10
 
| The shape measur'd, saw'd, jack'd, join'd, stain'd, | 
 
 
The coffin-shape for the dead to lie within in his 
 
         shroud; 
 
 | 
 
 
The shape got out in posts, in the bedstead posts, in 
 
         the posts of the bride's bed; 
 
 | 
 
 
The shape of the little trough, the shape of the rockers 
 
         beneath, the shape of the babe's cradle; 
 
 | 
 
 
The shape of the floor-planks, the floor-planks for 
 
         dancers' feet; 
 
 | 
 
 
The shape of the planks of the family home, the 
 
         home of the friendly parents and children,
 
 | 
 
 
The shape of the roof of the home of the happy 
 
         young man and woman, the roof over the well-
 
         married young man and woman,
 
 | 
 
 
The roof over the supper joyously cook'd by the chaste 
 
         wife, and joyously eaten by the chaste husband,
 
         content after his day's work.
 
 | 
 
 
 
The shape of the prisoner's place in the court-room,
 
         and of him or her seated in the place; 
 
 | 
 
 
The shape of the liquor-bar lean'd against by the 
 
         young rum-drinker and the old rum drinker; 
 
 | 
 
 
The shape of the shamed and angry stairs, trod by 
 
         sneaking footsteps; 
 
 | 
 
 
The shape of the sly settee, and the adulterous un-
 
         wholesome couple; 
 
 | 
 
 
The shape of the gambling-board with its devilish 
 
         winnings and losings; 
 
 | 
 
 
The shape of the step-ladder for the convicted and 
 
         sentenced murderer, the murderer with hag-
 
         gard face and pinion'd arms,
 
 | 
 
 
The sheriff at hand with his deputies, the silent and 
 
         white-lipp'd crowd, the sickening dangling of 
 
         the rope.
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
View Page 181
 | 
 
 
 
| Shapes of doors giving many exits and entrances; | 
 
 
The door passing the dissever'd friend, flush'd and in 
 
         haste; 
 
 | 
 
 
| The door that admits good news and bad news; | 
 
 
The door whence the son left home, confident and 
 
         puff'd up; 
 
 | 
 
 
The door he enter'd again from a long and scandalous 
 
         absence, diseas'd, broken down, without inno-
 
         cence, without means.
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
11
 
She, less guarded than ever, yet more guarded than 
 
         ever; 
 
 | 
 
 
The gross and soil'd she moves among do not make 
 
         her gross and soil'd; 
 
 | 
 
 
She knows the thoughts as she passes—nothing is con-
 
         ceal'd from her; 
 
 | 
 
 
| She is none the less considerate or friendly therefor; | 
 
 
She is the best-beloved—it is without exception—she 
 
         has no reason to fear, and she does not fear; 
 
 | 
 
 
Oaths, quarrels, hiccupp'd songs, smutty expressions,
 
         are idle to her as she passes; 
 
 | 
 
 
She is silent—she is possess'd of herself—they do not 
 
         offend her; 
 
 | 
 
 
She receives them as the laws of nature receive them 
 
         —she is strong,
 
 | 
 
 
She too is a law of nature—there is no law stronger 
 
         than she is.
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
12
 
| 32  The main shapes arise! | 
 
 
| Shapes of Democracy, total—result of centuries; | 
 
 
| Shapes, ever projecting other shapes; | 
 
 
Shapes of a hundred Free States, begetting another 
 
         hundred; 
 
 | 
 
 
| Shapes of turbulent manly cities; | 
 
 
| Shapes of the women fit for These States, | 
 
 
 
 
View Page 182
 | 
 
 
Shapes of the friends and home-givers of the whole 
 
         earth,
 
 | 
 
 
Shapes bracing the earth, and braced with the whole 
 
         earth.
 
 | 
 
 
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