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Leaves of Grass (1871-72)
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SONG OF THE BROAD-AXE.
1
1 WEAPON, shapely, naked, wan! |
Head from the mother's bowels drawn! |
Wooded flesh and metal bone! limb only one, and lip
only one!
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Gray-blue leaf by red-heat grown! helve produced from
a little seed sown!
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Resting the grass amid and upon, |
To be lean'd, and to lean on. |
2 Strong shapes, and attributes of strong shapes—mas-
culine trades, sights and sounds;
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Long varied train of an emblem, dabs of music; |
Fingers of the organist skipping staccato over the keys
of the great organ.
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2
3 Welcome are all earth's lands, each for its kind; |
Welcome are lands of pine and oak; |
Welcome are lands of the lemon and fig; |
Welcome are lands of gold; |
Welcome are lands of wheat and maize—welcome those
of the grape;
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Welcome are lands of sugar and rice; |
Welcome the cotton-lands—welcome those of the white
potato and sweet potato;
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Welcome are mountains, flats, sands, forests, prairies; |
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Welcome the rich borders of rivers, table-lands, open-
ings;
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Welcome the measureless grazing-lands—welcome the
teeming soil of orchards, flax, honey, hemp;
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Welcome just as much the other more hard-faced lands; |
Lands rich as lands of gold, or wheat and fruit lands; |
Lands of mines, lands of the manly and rugged ores; |
Lands of coal, copper, lead, tin, zinc; |
LANDS OF IRON! lands of the make of the axe! |
3
4 The log at the wood-pile, the axe supported by it; |
The sylvan hut, the vine over the doorway, the space
clear'd for a garden,
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The irregular tapping of rain down on the leaves, after
the storm is lull'd,
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The wailing and moaning at intervals, the thought of
the sea,
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The thought of ships struck in the storm, and put on
their beam ends, and the cutting away of masts;
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The sentiment of the huge timbers of old-fashion'd
houses and barns;
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The remember'd print or narrative, the voyage at a
venture of men, families, goods,
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The disembarkation, the founding of a new city, |
The voyage of those who sought a New England and
found it—the outset anywhere,
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The settlements of the Arkansas, Colorado, Ottawa,
Willamette,
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The slow progress, the scant fare, the axe, rifle, saddle-
bags;
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The beauty of all adventurous and daring persons, |
The beauty of wood-boys and wood-men, with their
clear untrimm'd faces,
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The beauty of independence, departure, actions that
rely on themselves,
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The American contempt for statutes and ceremonies,
the boundless impatience of restraint,
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The loose drift of character, the inkling through ran-
dom types, the solidification;
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The butcher in the slaughter-house, the hands aboard
schooners and sloops, the raftsman, the pioneer,
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Lumbermen in their winter camp, day-break in the
woods, stripes of snow on the limbs of trees, the
occasional snapping,
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The glad clear sound of one's own voice, the merry
song, the natural life of the woods, the strong
day's work,
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The blazing fire at night, the sweet taste of supper, the
talk, the bed of hemlock boughs, and the bear-
skin;
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—The house-builder at work in cities or anywhere, |
The preparatory jointing, squaring, sawing, mortising, |
The hoist-up of beams, the push of them in their places,
laying them regular,
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Setting the studs by their tenons in the mortises, accord-
ing as they were prepared,
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The blows of mallets and hammers, the attitudes of the
men, their curv'd limbs,
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Bending, standing, astride the beams, driving in pins,
holding on by posts and braces,
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The hook'd arm over the plate, the other arm wielding
the axe,
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The floor-men forcing the planks close, to be nail'd, |
Their postures bringing their weapons downward on
the bearers,
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The echoes resounding through the vacant building; |
The huge store-house carried up in the city, well under
way,
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The six framing-men, two in the middle, and two at
each end, carefully bearing on their shoulders a
heavy stick for a cross-beam,
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The crowded line of masons with trowels in their right
hands, rapidly laying the long side-wall, two
hundred feet from front to rear,
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The flexible rise and fall of backs, the continual click
of the trowels striking the bricks,
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The bricks, one after another, each laid so workman-
like in its place, and set with a knock of the
trowel-handle,
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The piles of materials, the mortar on the mortar-boards,
and the steady replenishing by the hod-men;
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—Spar-makers in the spar-yard, the swarming row of
well-grown apprentices,
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The swing of their axes on the square-hew'd log,
shaping it toward the shape of a mast,
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The brisk short crackle of the steel driven slantingly
into the pine,
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The butter-color'd chips flying off in great flakes and
slivers,
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The limber motion of brawny young arms and hips in
easy costumes;
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The constructor of wharves, bridges, piers, bulk-heads,
floats, stays against the sea;
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—The city fireman—the fire that suddenly bursts forth
in the close-pack'd square,
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The arriving engines, the hoarse shouts, the nimble
stepping and daring,
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The strong command through the fire-trumpets, the
falling in line, the rise and fall of the arms
forcing the water,
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The slender, spasmic, blue-white jets—the bringing
to bear of the hooks and ladders, and their
execution,
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The crash and cut away of connecting wood-work, or
through floors, if the fire smoulders under them,
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The crowd with their lit faces, watching—the glare
and dense shadows;
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—The forger at his forge-furnace, and the user of iron
after him,
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The maker of the axe large and small, and the welder
and temperer,
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The chooser breathing his breath on the cold steel,
and trying the edge with his thumb,
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The one who clean-shapes the handle, and sets it firmly
in the socket;
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The shadowy processions of the portraits of the past
users also,
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The primal patient mechanics, the architects and en-
gineers,
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The far-off Assyrian edifice and Mizra edifice, |
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The Roman lictors preceding the consuls, |
The antique European warrior with his axe in combat, |
The uplifted arm, the clatter of blows on the helmeted
head,
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The death-howl, the limpsey tumbling body, the rush
of friend and foe thither,
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The siege of revolted lieges determin'd for liberty, |
The summons to surrender, the battering at castle gates,
the truce and parley;
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The sack of an old city in its time, |
The bursting in of mercenaries and bigots tumultuously
and disorderly.
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Roar, flames, blood, drunkenness, madness, |
Goods freely rifled from houses and temples, screams of
women in the gripe of brigands,
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Craft and thievery of camp-followers, men running, old
persons despairing,
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The hell of war, the cruelties of creeds, |
The list of all executive deeds and words, just or unjust, |
The power of personality, just or unjust. |
4
5 Muscle and pluck forever! |
What invigorates life, invigorates death, |
And the dead advance as much as the living advance, |
And the future is no more uncertain than the present, |
And the roughness of the earth and of man encloses as
much as the delicatesse of the earth and of man,
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And nothing endures but personal qualities. |
6 What do you think endures? |
Do you think the great city endures? |
Or a teeming manufacturing state? or a prepared con-
stitution? or the best built steamships?
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Or hotels of granite and iron? or any chef-d'uvres of
engineering, forts, armaments?
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7 Away! These are not to be cherish'd for themselves; |
They fill their hour, the dancers dance, the musicians
play for them;
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The show passes, all does well enough of course, |
All does very well till one flash of defiance. |
8 The great city is that which has the greatest man or
woman;
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If it be a few ragged huts, it is still the greatest city in
the whole world.
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5
9 The place where the great city stands is not the
place of stretch'd wharves, docks, manufactures,
deposits of produce,
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Nor the place of ceaseless salutes of new comers, or the
anchor-lifters of the departing,
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Nor the place of the tallest and costliest buildings, or
shops selling goods from the rest of the earth,
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Nor the place of the best libraries and schools—nor the
place where money is plentiest,
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Nor the place of the most numerous population. |
10 Where the city stands with the brawniest breed of
orators and bards;
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Where the city stands that is beloved by these, and
loves them in return, and understands them;
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Where no monuments exist to heroes, but in the com-
mon words and deeds;
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Where thrift is in its place, and prudence is in its place; |
Where the men and women think lightly of the laws; |
Where the slave ceases, and the master of slaves ceases; |
Where the populace rise at once against the never-
ending audacity of elected persons;
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Where fierce men and women pour forth, as the sea to
the whistle of death pours its sweeping and un-
ript waves;
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Where outside authority enters always after the preced-
ence of inside authority;
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Where the citizen is always the head and ideal—and
President, Mayor, Governor, and what not, are
agents for pay;
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Where children are taught to be laws to themselves,
and to depend on themselves;
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Where equanimity is illustrated in affairs; |
Where speculations on the Soul are encouraged; |
Where women walk in public processions in the streets,
the same as the men,
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Where they enter the public assembly and take places
the same as the men;
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Where the city of the faithfulest friends stands; |
Where the city of the cleanliness of the sexes stands; |
Where the city of the healthiest fathers stands; |
Where the city of the best-bodied mothers stands, |
There the great city stands. |
6
11 How beggarly appear arguments before a defiant deed! |
How the floridness of the materials of cities shrivels
before a man's or woman's look!
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12 All waits, or goes by default, till a strong being ap-
pears;
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A strong being is the proof of the race, and of the ability
of the universe;
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When he or she appears, materials are overaw'd, |
The dispute on the Soul stops, |
The old customs and phrases are confronted, turn'd
back, or laid away.
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13 What is your money-making now? what can it do now? |
What is your respectability now? |
What are your theology, tuition, society, traditions,
statute-books, now?
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Where are your jibes of being now? |
Where are your cavils about the Soul now? |
7
14 A sterile landscape covers the ore—there is as good
as the best, for all the forbidding appearance;
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There is the mine, there are the miners; |
The forge-furnace is there, the melt is accomplish'd;
the hammers-men are at hand with their tongs
and hammers;
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What always served, and always serves, is at hand. |
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15 Than this, nothing has better served—it has served all: |
Served the fluent-tongued and subtle-sensed Greek, and
long ere the Greek:
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Served in building the buildings that last longer than
any;
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Served the Hebrew, the Persian, the most ancient Hin-
dostanee;
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Served the mound-raiser on the Mississippi—served
those whose relics remain in Central America;
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Served Albic temples in woods or on plains, with un-
hewn pillars, and the druids;
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Served the artificial clefts, vast, high, silent, on the
snow-cover'd hills of Scandinavia;
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Served those who, time out of mind, made on the gran-
ite walls rough sketches of the sun, moon, stars,
ships, ocean-waves;
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Served the paths of the irruptions of the Goths—served
the pastoral tribes and nomads;
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Served the long, long distant Kelt—served the hardy
pirates of the Baltic;
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Served before any of those, the venerable and harmless
men of Ethiopia;
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Served the making of helms for the galleys of pleasure,
and the making of those for war;
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Served all great works on land, and all great works on
the sea;
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For the medival ages, and before the medival ages; |
Served not the living only, then as now, but served the
dead.
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8
16 I see the European headsman; |
He stands mask'd, clothed in red, with huge legs, and
strong naked arms,
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And leans on a ponderous axe. |
17 (Whom have you slaughter'd lately, European heads-
man?
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Whose is that blood upon you, so wet and sticky?) |
18 I see the clear sunsets of the martyrs; |
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I see from the scaffolds the descending ghosts, |
Ghosts of dead lords, uncrown'd ladies, impeach'd min-
isters, rejected kings,
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Rivals, traitors, poisoners, disgraced chieftains, and the
rest.
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19 I see those who in any land have died for the good
cause;
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The seed is spare, nevertheless the crop shall never run
out;
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(Mind you, O foreign kings, O priests, the crop shall
never run out.)
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20 I see the blood wash'd entirely away from the axe; |
Both blade and helve are clean; |
They spirt no more the blood of European nobles—
they clasp no more the necks of queens.
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21 I see the headsman withdraw and become useless; |
I see the scaffold untrodden and mouldy—I see no
longer any axe upon it;
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I see the mighty and friendly emblem of the power of
my own race—the newest, largest race.
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9
22 (America! I do not vaunt my love for you; |
The solid forest gives fluid utterances; |
They tumble forth, they rise and form, |
Hut, tent, landing, survey, |
Flail, plough, pick, crowbar, spade, |
Shingle, rail, prop, wainscot, jamb, lath, panel, gable, |
Citadel, ceiling, saloon, academy, organ, exhibition-
house, library,
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Cornice, trellis, pilaster, balcony, window, shutter, tur-
ret, porch,
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Hoe, rake, pitch-fork, pencil, wagon, staff, saw, jack-
plane, mallet, wedge, rounce,
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Chair, tub, hoop, table, wicket, vane, sash, floor, |
Work-box, chest, string'd instrument, boat, frame, and
what not,
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Capitols of States, and capitol of the nation of States, |
Long stately rows in avenues, hospitals for orphans, or
for the poor or sick,
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Manhattan steamboats and clippers, taking the measure
of all seas.
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Shapes of the using of axes anyhow, and the users, and
all that neighbors them,
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Cutters down of wood, and haulers of it to the Penob-
scot or Kennebec,
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Dwellers in cabins among the Californian mountains, or
by the little lakes, or on the Columbia,
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Dwellers south on the banks of the Gila or Rio Grande
—friendly gatherings, the characters and fun,
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Dwellers up north in Minnesota and by the Yellowstone
river—dwellers on coasts and off coasts,
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Seal-fishers, whalers, arctic seamen breaking passages
through the ice.
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Shapes of factories, arsenals, foundries, markets; |
Shapes of the two-threaded tracks of railroads; |
Shapes of the sleepers of bridges, vast frameworks,
girders, arches;
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Shapes of the fleets of barges, tows, lake and canal craft,
river craft.
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Ship-yards and dry-docks along the Eastern and West-
ern Seas, and in many a bay and by-place,
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The live-oak kelsons, the pine planks, the spars, the
hackmatack-roots for knees,
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The ships themselves on their ways, the tiers of scaf-
folds, the workmen busy outside and inside,
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The tools lying around, the great auger and little auger,
the adze, bolt, line, square, gouge, and bead-
plane.
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The shape measur'd, saw'd, jack'd, join'd, stain'd, |
The coffin-shape for the dead to lie within in his shroud; |
The shape got out in posts, in the bedstead posts, in
the posts of the bride's bed;
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The shape of the little trough, the shape of the rockers
beneath, the shape of the babe's cradle;
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The shape of the floor-planks, the floor-planks for
dancers' feet;
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The shape of the planks of the family home, the home
of the friendly parents and children,
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The shape of the roof of the home of the happy young
man and woman—the roof over the well-married
young man and woman,
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The roof over the supper joyously cook'd by the chaste
wife, and joyously eaten by the chaste husband,
content after his day's work.
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The shape of the prisoner's place in the court-room, and
of him or her seated in the place;
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The shape of the liquor-bar lean'd against by the young
rum-drinker and the old rum-drinker;
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The shape of the shamed and angry stairs, trod by
sneaking footsteps;
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The shape of the sly settee, and the adulterous un-
wholesome couple;
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The shape of the gambling-board with its devilish win-
nings and losings;
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The shape of the step-ladder for the convicted and sen-
tenced murderer, the murderer with haggard
face and pinion'd arms,
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The sheriff at hand with his deputies, the silent and
white-lipp'd crowd, the dangling of the rope.
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Shapes of doors giving many exits and entrances; |
The door passing the dissever'd friend, flush'd and in
haste;
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The door that admits good news and bad news; |
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The door whence the son left home, confident and
puff'd up;
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The door he enter'd again from a long and scandalous
absence, diseas'd, broken down, without inno-
cence, without means.
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11
She, less guarded than ever, yet more guarded than
ever;
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The gross and soil'd she moves among do not make her
gross and soil'd;
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She knows the thoughts as she passes—nothing is con-
ceal'd from her;
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She is none the less considerate or friendly therefor; |
She is the best belov'd—it is without exception—she
has no reason to fear, and she does not fear;
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Oaths, quarrels, hiccupp'd songs, smutty expressions,
are idle to her as she passes;
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She is silent—she is possess'd of herself—they do not
offend her;
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She receives them as the laws of nature receive them
—she is strong,
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She too is a law of nature—there is no law stronger
than she is.
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12
31 The main shapes arise! |
Shapes of Democracy, total—result of centuries; |
Shapes, ever projecting other shapes; |
Shapes of turbulent manly cities; |
Shapes of the friends and home-givers of the whole
earth,
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Shapes bracing the earth, and braced with the whole
earth.
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