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Leaves of Grass (1871-72)
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PIONEERS! O PIONEERS!
1
| COME, my tan-faced children, |
| Follow well in order, get your weapons ready; |
Have you your pistols? have you your sharp edged
axes?
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2
| For we cannot tarry here, |
We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt
of danger,
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We, the youthful sinewy races, all the rest on us depend,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
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3
| O you youths, western youths, |
So impatient, full of action, full of manly pride and
friendship,
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Plain I see you, western youths, see you tramping with
the foremost,
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4
| Have the elder races halted? |
Do they droop and end their lesson, wearied, over there
beyond the seas?
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We take up the task eternal, and the burden, and the
lesson,
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5
| All the past we leave behind; |
We debouch upon a newer, mightier world, varied
world;
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Fresh and strong the world we seize, world of labor and
the march,
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6
| We detachments steady throwing, |
Down the edges, through the passes, up the mountains
steep,
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Conquering, holding, daring, venturing, as we go, the
unknown ways,
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7
| We primeval forests felling, |
We the rivers stemming, vexing we, and piercing deep
the mines within;
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We the surface broad surveying, we the virgin soil up-
heaving,
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8
From the peaks gigantic, from the great sierras and the
high plateaus,
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From the mine and from the gully, from the hunting
trail we come,
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9
| From Nebraska, from Arkansas, |
Central inland race are we, from Missouri, with the
continental blood intervein'd;
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All the hands of comrades clasping, all the Southern,
all the Northern,
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10
| O resistless, restless race! |
O beloved race in all! O my breast aches with tender
love for all!
|
| O I mourn and yet exult—I am rapt with love for all, |
11
| Raise the mighty mother mistress, |
Waving high the delicate mistress, over all the starry
mistress, (bend your heads all,)
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Raise the fang'd and warlike mistress, stern, impassive,
weapon'd mistress,
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12
| See, my children, resolute children, |
By those swarms upon our rear, we must never yield or
falter,
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Ages back in ghostly millions, frowning there behind us
urging,
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13
| On and on, the compact ranks, |
With accessions ever waiting, with the places of the
dead quickly fill'd,
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Through the battle, through defeat, moving yet and
never stopping,
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14
Are there some of us to droop and die? has the hour
come?
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Then upon the march we fittest die, soon and sure the
gap is fill'd,
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15
| All the pulses of the world, |
Falling in, they beat for us, with the western move-
ment beat;
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Holding single or together, steady moving, to the front,
all for us,
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16
| Life's involv'd and varied pageants, |
All the forms and shows, all the workmen at their
work,
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All the seamen and the landsmen, all the masters with
their slaves,
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17
| All the hapless silent lovers, |
All the prisoners in the prisons, all the righteous and
the wicked,
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All the joyous, all the sorrowing, all the living, all the
dying,
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18
| I too with my soul and body, |
| We, a curious trio, picking, wandering on our way, |
Through these shores, amid the shadows, with the ap-
paritions pressing,
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19
| Lo! the darting bowling orb! |
Lo! the brother orbs around! all the clustering suns
and planets;
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| All the dazzling days, all the mystic nights with dreams, |
20
| These are of us, they are with us, |
All for primal needed work, while the followers there
in embryo wait behind,
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We to-day's procession heading, we the route for travel
clearing,
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21
| O you daughters of the west! |
O you young and elder daughters! O you mothers and
you wives!
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Never must you be divided, in our ranks you move
united,
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22
| Minstrels latent on the prairies! |
(Shrouded bards of other lands! you may sleep—you
have done your work;)
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Soon I hear you coming warbling, soon you rise and
tramp amid us,
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23
| Not for delectations sweet; |
Not the cushion and the slipper, not the peaceful and
the studious;
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Not the riches safe and palling, not for us the tame en-
joyment,
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24
| Do the feasters gluttonous feast? |
Do the corpulent sleepers sleep? have they lock'd and
bolted doors?
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Still be ours the diet hard, and the blanket on the
ground,
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25
Was the road of late so toilsome? did we stop discour-
aged, nodding on our way?
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Yet a passing hour I yield you, in your tracks to pause
oblivious,
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26
| Till with sound of trumpet, |
Far, far off the day-break call—hark! how loud and
clear I hear it wind;
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Swift! to the head of the army!—swift! spring to your
places,
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