Leaves of Grass (1867)


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4.


1  POETS to come!
Not to-day is to justify me, and Democracy, and what
         we are for;
 


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But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental,
         greater than before known,
You must justify me.

2  I but write one or two indicative words for the
         future,
I but advance a moment, only to wheel and hurry back
         in the darkness.

3  I am a man who, sauntering along, without fully
         stopping, turns a casual look upon you, and
         then averts his face,
Leaving it to you to prove and define it,
Expecting the main things from you.
 
 
 
 
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