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Leaves of Grass (1867)
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A BROADWAY PAGEANT.
(RECEPTION JAPANESE EMBASSY, JUNE 16, 1860.)
| 1 OVER sea, hither from Niphon, |
| Courteous, the Princes of Asia, swart-cheek'd princes, |
| First-comers, guests, two-sworded princes, |
Lesson-giving princes, leaning back in their open ba-
rouches, bare-headed, impassive,
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| This day they ride through Manhattan. |
| I do not know whether others behold what I behold, |
In the procession, along with the Princes of Asia, the
errand-bearers,
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Bringing up the rear, hovering above, around, or in the
ranks marching;
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| But I will sing you a song of what I behold, Libertad. |
3 When million-footed Manhattan, unpent, descends to
its pavements;
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When the thunder-cracking guns arouse me with the
proud roar I love;
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When the round-mouth'd guns, out of the smoke and
smell I love, spit their salutes;
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When the fire-flashing guns have fully alerted me—
when heaven-clouds canopy my city with a
delicate thin haze;
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When, gorgeous, the countless straight stems, the for-
ests at the wharves, thicken with colors;
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When every ship, richly drest, carries her flag at the
peak;
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When pennants trail, and street-festoons hang from the
windows;
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When Broadway is entirely given up to foot-passengers
and foot-standers—when the mass is densest;
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When the facades of the houses are alive with people—
when eyes gaze, riveted, tens of thousands at a
time;
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When the guests from the islands advance—when the
pageant moves forward, visible;
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When the summons is made—when the answer that
waited thousands of years, answers;
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I too, arising, answering, descend to the pavements,
merge with the crowd, and gaze with them.
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| 4 Superb-faced Manhattan! |
Comrade Americanos!—to us, then, at last, the Orient
comes.
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Where our tall-topt marble and iron beauties range on
opposite sides—to walk in the space between,
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| To-day our Antipodes comes. |
| 6 The Originatress comes, |
The land of Paradise—land of the Caucasus—the nest
of birth,
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The nest of languages, the bequeather of poems, the
race of eld,
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Florid with blood, pensive, rapt with musings, hot with
passion,
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| Sultry with perfume, with ample and flowing garments, |
With sunburnt visage, with intense soul and glittering
eyes.
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| The race of Brahma comes! |
7 See, my cantabile! these, and more, are flashing to us
from the procession;
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As it moves, changing, a kaleidoscope divine it moves,
changing, before us.
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8 Not the errand-bearing princes, nor the tann'd Japa-
nee only;
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Lithe and silent, the Hindoo appears—the whole Asiatic
continent itself appears—the Past, the dead,
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The murky night-morning of wonder and fable, inscruta-
ble,
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The envelop'd mysteries, the old and unknown hive-
bees,
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The North—the sweltering South—Assyria—the
Hebrews—the Ancient of ancients,
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Vast desolated cities—the gliding Present—all of
these, and more, are in the pageant-procession.
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| 9 Geography, the world, is in it; |
The Great Sea, the brood of islands, Polynesia, the coast
beyond;
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The coast you, henceforth, are facing—you Libertad!
from your Western golden shores;
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The countries there, with their populations—the mil-
lions en-masse, are curiously here;
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The swarming market places—the temples, with idols
ranged along the sides, or at the end—bonze,
brahmin, and lama;
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The mandarin, farmer, merchant, mechanic, and fisher-
man;
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The singing-girl and the dancing-girl—the ecstatic
person—the divine Buddha;
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The secluded Emperors—Confucius himself—the
great poets and heroes—the warriors, the castes,
all,
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Trooping up, crowding from all directions—from the
Altay mountains,
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From Thibet—from the four winding and far-flowing
rivers of China,
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From the Southern peninsulas, and the demi-continental
islands—from Malaysia;
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These, and whatever belongs to them, palpable, show
forth to me, and are seiz'd by me,
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| And I am seiz'd by them, and friendlily held by them, |
Till, as here, them all I chant, Libertad! for themselves
and for you.
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10 For I too, raising my voice, join the ranks of this
pageant;
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| I am the chanter—I chant aloud over the pageant; |
| I chant the world on my Western Sea; |
I chant, copious, the islands beyond, thick as stars in
the sky;
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I chant the new empire, grander than any before—As
in a vision it comes to me;
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I chant America, the Mistress—I chant a greater su-
premacy;
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I chant, projected, a thousand blooming cities yet, in
time, on those groups of sea-islands;
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I chant my sail-ships and steam-ships threading the ar-
chipelagoes;
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| I chant my stars and stripes fluttering in the wind; |
I chant commerce opening, the sleep of ages having
done its work—races, reborn, refresh'd;
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Lives, works, resumed—The object I know not—but
the old, the Asiatic, resumed, as it must be,
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| Commencing from this day, surrounded by the world. |
| 11 And you, Libertad of the world! |
You shall sit in the middle, well-pois'd, thousands of
years;
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As to-day, from one side, the Princes of Asia come to
you;
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As to-morrow, from the other side, the Queen of Eng-
land sends her eldest son to you.
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| 12 The sign is reversing, the orb is enclosed, |
| The ring is circled, the journey is done; |
The box-lid is but perceptibly open'd—nevertheless the
perfume pours copiously out of the whole box.
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| With the venerable Asia, the all-mother, |
Be considerate with her, now and ever, hot Libertad—
for you are all;
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Bend your proud neck to the long-off mother, now
sending messages over the archipelagoes to you;
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| Bend your proud neck low for once, young Libertad. |
14 Were the children straying westward so long? so
wide the tramping?
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Were the precedent dim ages debouching westward
from Paradise so long?
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Were the centuries steadily footing it that way, all the
while unknown, for you, for reasons?
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They are justified—they are accomplish'd—they shall
now be turn'd the other way also, to travel to-
ward you thence;
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They shall now also march obediently eastward, for
your sake, Libertad.
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