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Leaves of Grass (1867)
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SONG AT SUNSET.
1 SPLENDOR of ended day, floating and filling me! |
Hour prophetic—hour resuming the past! |
Inflating my throat—you, divine average! |
You, Earth and Life, till the last ray gleams, I sing. |
2 Open mouth of my Soul, uttering gladness, |
Eyes of my Soul, seeing perfection, |
Natural life of me, faithfully praising things; |
Corroborating forever the triumph of things. |
Illustrious what we name space—sphere of unnum-
ber'd spirits;
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Illustrious the mystery of motion, in all beings, even
the tiniest insect;
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Illustrious the attribute of speech—the senses—the
body;
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Illustrious the passing light! Illustrious the pale
reflection on the new moon in the western sky!
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Illustrious whatever I see, or hear, or touch, to the
last.
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In the satisfaction and aplomb of animals, |
In the annual return of the seasons, |
In the hilarity of youth, |
In the strength and flush of manhood, |
In the grandeur and exquisiteness of old age, |
In the superb vistas of Death. |
The heart, to jet the all-alike and innocent blood, |
To breathe the air, how delicious! |
To speak! to walk! to seize something by the hand! |
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To prepare for sleep, for bed—to look on my rose-
color'd flesh,
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To be conscious of my body, so happy, so large, |
To be this incredible God I am, |
To have gone forth among other Gods—those men
and women I love.
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6 Wonderful how I celebrate you and myself! |
How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles
around!
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How the clouds pass silently overhead! |
How the earth darts on and on! and how the sun,
moon, stars, dart on and on!
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How the water sports and sings! (Surely it is alive!) |
How the trees rise and stand up—with strong trunks
—with branches and leaves!
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(Surely there is something more in each of the trees—
some living Soul.)
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7 O amazement of things! even the least particle! |
O spirituality of things! |
O strain musical, flowing through ages and continents
—now reaching me and America!
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I take your strong chords—I intersperse them, and
cheerfully pass them forward.
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8 I too carol the sun, usher'd, or at noon, or, as now,
setting,
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I too throb to the brain and beauty of the earth, and
of all the growths of the earth,
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I too have felt the resistless call of myself. |
9 As I sail'd down the Mississippi, |
As I wander'd over the prairies, |
As I have lived—As I have look'd through my win-
dows, my eyes,
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As I went forth in the morning—As I beheld the light
breaking in the east;
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As I bathed on the beach of the Eastern Sea, and
again on the beach of the Western Sea;
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As I roam'd the streets of inland Chicago—whatever
streets I have roam'd;
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Wherever I have been, I have charged myself with
contentment and triumph.
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10 I sing the Equalities; |
I sing the endless finalés of things; |
I say Nature continues—Glory continues; |
I praise with electric voice; |
For I do not see one imperfection in the universe; |
And I do not see one cause or result lamentable at last
in the universe.
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11 O setting sun! though the time has come, |
I still warble under you, unmitigated adoration. |
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