Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman

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¹ COURAGE! my brother or my sister!

Keep on! Liberty is to be subserved, whatever occurs;

That is nothing, that is quell'd by one or two failures,
or any number of failures,

Or by the indifference or ingratitude of the people, or
by any unfaithfulness,

Or the show of the tushes of power, soldiers, cannon,
penal statutes.

² What we believe in waits latent forever through all
the continents, and all the islands and archi-
pelagos of the sea.

³ What we believe in invites no one, promises nothing,
sits in calmness and light, is positive and com-
posed, knows no discouragement,

Waiting patiently, waiting its time.

⁴ The battle rages with many a loud alarm, and fre-
quent advance and retreat,

The infidel triumphs—or supposes he triumphs,

The prison, scaffold, garrote, hand-cuffs, iron necklace
and anklet, lead-balls, do their work,

The named and unnamed heroes pass to other spheres,

The great speakers and writers are exiled—they lie sick
in distant lands,

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The cause is asleep—the strongest throats are still,
choked with their own blood,

The young men drop their eyelashes toward the ground
when they meet;

But for all this, liberty has not gone out of the place,
nor the infidel enter'd into possession.

⁵ When liberty goes out of a place, it is not the first
to go, nor the second or third to go,

It waits for all the rest to go—it is the last.

⁶ When there are no more memories of heroes and
martyrs,

And when all life, and all the souls of men and women
are discharged from any part of the earth,

Then only shall liberty be discharged from that part of
the earth,

And the infidel and the tyrant come into possession.

⁷ Then courage! revolter! revoltress!

For till all ceases, neither must you cease.

⁸ I do not know what you are for, (I do not know what
I am for myself, nor what anything is for,)

But I will search carefully for it even in being foil'd,

In defeat, poverty, imprisonment—for they too are
great.

⁹ Did we think victory great?

So it is—But now it seems to me, when it cannot be
help'd, that defeat is great,

And that death and dismay are great.

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