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Leaves of Grass (1871-72)
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AS I PONDER'D IN SILENCE.
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AS I ponder'd in silence, |
Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long, |
A Phantom arose before me, with distrustful aspect, |
Terrible in beauty, age, and power, |
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The genius of poets of old lands, |
As to me directing like flame its eyes, |
With finger pointing to many immortal songs, |
And menacing voice, What singest thou? it said; |
Knowest thou not, there is but one theme for ever-enduring
bards?
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And that is the theme of War, the fortune of battles, |
The making of perfect soldiers? |
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Be it so, then I answer'd, |
I too, haughty Shade, also sing war—and a longer and
greater one than any,
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Waged in my book with varying fortune—with fight, ad-
vance, and retreat—Victory deferr'd and wavering,
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(Yet, methinks, certain, or as good as certain, at the last,)
—The field the world;
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For life and death—for the Body, and for the eternal Soul, |
Lo! I too am come, chanting the chant of battles, |
I, above all, promote brave soldiers . |
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