Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman

Leaves of Grass (1871-72)

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NOW FINALE TO THE SHORE.

Now finale to the shore!

Now, land and life, finale, and farewell!

Now Voyager depart! (much, much for thee is yet in
store;)

Often enough hast though adventur'd o'er the seas,

Cautiously cruising, studying the charts,

Duly again to port, and hawser's tie, returning:

—But now obey thy cherish'd, secret wish,

Embrace thy friends—leave all in order;

To port, and hawser's tie, no more returning,

Depart upon thy endless cruise, old Sailor!

SHUT NOT YOUR DOORS, &c.

SHUT not your doors to me, proud libraries,

For that which was lacking on all your well-fill'd
shelves, yet needed most, I bring,

Forth from the army, the war emerging—a book I
have made,

The words of my book nothing—the drift of it every-
thing;

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A book separate, not link'd with the rest, nor felt by
the intellect,

But you, ye untold latencies, will thrill to every page;

Through Space and Time, fused in a chant, and the
flowing, eternal Identity,

To Nature, encompassing these, encompassing God—
to the joyous, electric All,

To the sense of Death—and accepting, exulting in
Death, in its turn, the same as life,

The entrance of Man I sing.

THOUGHT.

AS they draw to a close,

Of what underlies the precedent songs—of my aims in
them;

Of the seed I have sought to plant in them;

Of joy, sweet joy, through many a year, in them;

(For them—for them have I lived—in them my work
is done;)

Of many an aspiration fond—of many a dream and
plan,

Of you, O mystery great!—to place on record faith in
you, O death!

—To compact you, ye parted, diverse lives!

To put rapport the mountains, and rocks, and streams,

And the winds of the north, and the forests of oak and
pine,

With you, O soul of man.

THE UNTOLD WANT.

THE untold want, by life and land ne'er granted,

Now, Voyager, sail thou forth, to seek and find.

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PORTALS.

WHAT are those of the known, but to ascend and enter
the Unknown?

And what are those of life, but for Death?

THESE CAROLS.

THESE Carols, sung to cheer my passage through the
world I see,

For completion, I dedicate to the Invisible World.

THIS DAY, O SOUL.

THIS day, O Soul, I give you a wondrous mirror;

Long in the dark, in tarnish and cloud it lay—But the
cloud has pass'd, and the tarnish gone;

. . . Behold, O Soul! It is now a clean and bright
mirror,

Faithfully showing you all the things of the world.

WHAT PLACE IS BESIEGED?

WHAT place is besieged, and vainly tries to raise the
siege?

Lo! I send to that place a commander, swift, brave,
immortal;

And with him horse and foot—and parks of artil-
lery,

And artillery-men, the deadliest that ever fired gun.

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TO THE READER AT PARTING.

Now, dearest comrade, lift me to your face,

We must separate awhile—Here! take from my lips
this kiss;

Whoever you are, I give it especially to you;

So long! —And I hope we shall meet again.

JOY, SHIPMATE, JOY!

JOY! shipmate—joy!

(Pleas'd to my Soul at death I cry;)

Our life is closed—our life begins;

The long, long anchorage we leave,

The ship is clear at last—she leaps!

She swiftly courses from the shore;

Joy! shipmate—joy!

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