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Leaves of Grass (1871-72)
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THE ANSWERER.
NOW LIST TO MY MORNING'S ROMANZA.
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1 Now list to my morning's romanza—I tell the signs
of the Answerer;
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To the cities and farms I sing, as they spread in the
sunshine before me.
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2 A young man comes to me bearing a message from
his brother;
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How shall the young man know the whether and when
of his brother?
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Tell him to send me the signs. |
3 And I stand before the young man face to face, and
take his right hand in my left hand, and his left
hand in my right hand,
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And I answer for his brother, and for men, and I an-
swer for him that answers for all, and send these
signs.
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4 Him all wait for—him all yield up to—his word is
decisive and final,
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Him they accept, in him lave, in him perceive them-
selves, as amid light,
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Him they immerse, and he immerses them. |
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5 Beautiful women, the haughtiest nations, laws, the
landscape, people, animals,
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The profound earth and its attributes, and the unquiet
ocean, (so tell I my morning's romanza;)
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All enjoyments and properties, and money, and what-
ever money will buy,
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The best farms—others toiling and planting, and he
unavoidably reaps,
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The noblest and costliest cities—others grading and
building, and he domiciles there;
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Nothing for any one, but what is for him—near and far
are for him, the ships in the offing,
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The perpetual shows and marches on land, are for him,
if they are for any body.
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6 He puts things in their attitudes; |
He puts to-day out of himself, with plasticity and love; |
He places his own city, times, reminiscences, parents,
brothers and sisters, associations, employment,
politics, so that the rest never shame them after-
ward, nor assume to command them.
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What can be answer'd he answers—and what cannot be
answer'd, he shows how it cannot be answer'd.
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8 A man is a summons and challenge; |
(It is vain to skulk—Do you hear that mocking and
laughter? Do you hear the ironical echoes?)
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9 Books, friendships, philosophers, priests, action, plea-
sure, pride, beat up and down, seeking to give
satisfaction;
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He indicates the satisfaction, and indicates them that
beat up and down also.
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10 Whichever the sex, whatever the season or place, he
may go freshly and gently and safely, by day or
by night;
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He has the pass-key of hearts—to Him the response of
the prying of hands on the knobs.
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11 His welcome is universal—the flow of beauty is not
more welcome or universal than he is;
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The person he favors by day, or sleeps with at night, is
blessed.
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4
12 Every existence has its idiom—everything has an
idiom and tongue;
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He resolves all tongues into his own, and bestows it
upon men, and any man translates, and any man
translates himself also;
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One part does not counteract another part—he is the
joiner—he sees how they join.
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13 He says indifferently and alike, How are you, friend?
to the President at his levee,
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And he says, Good-day, my brother! to Cudge that hoes
in the sugar-field,
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And both understand him, and know that his speech is
right.
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14 He walks with perfect ease in the Capitol, |
He walks among the Congress, and one Representative
says to another, Here is our equal, appearing and
new .
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15 Then the mechanics take him for a mechanic, |
And the soldiers suppose him to be a soldier, and the
sailors that he has follow'd the sea,
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And the authors take him for an author, and the artists
for an artist,
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And the laborers perceive he could labor with them and
love them;
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No matter what the work is, that he is the one to fol-
low it, or has follow'd it,
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No matter what the nation, that he might find his
brothers and sisters there,
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16 The English believe he comes of their English stock, |
A Jew to the Jew he seems—a Russ to the Russ—usual
and near, removed from none.
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17 Whoever he looks at in the traveler's coffee-house
claims him,
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The Italian or Frenchman is sure, and the German is
sure, and the Spaniard is sure, and the island
Cuban is sure;
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The engineer, the deck-hand on the great lakes, or on
the Mississippi, or St. Lawrence, or Sacramento,
or Hudson, or Paumanok Sound, claims him.
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18 The gentleman of perfect blood acknowledges his
perfect blood;
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The insulter, the prostitute, the angry person, the
beggar, see themselves in the ways of him—he
strangely transmutes them,
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They are not vile any more—they hardly know them-
selves, they are so grown.
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THE INDICATIONS.
1 THE indications, and tally of time; |
Perfect sanity shows the master among philosophs; |
Time, always without flaw, indicates itself in parts; |
What always indicates the poet, is the crowd of the
pleasant company of singers, and their words;
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The words of the singers are the hours or minutes of
the light or dark—but the words of the maker
of poems are the general light and dark;
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The maker of poems settles justice, reality, immor-
tality,
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His insight and power encircle things and the human
race,
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He is the glory and extract thus far, of things, and of
the human race.
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2 The singers do not beget—only the POET begets; |
The singers are welcom'd, understood, appear often
enough—but rare has the day been, likewise the
spot, of the birth of the maker of poems, the
Answerer,
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(Not every century, or every five centuries, has con-
tain'd such a day, for all its names.)
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3 The singers of successive hours of centuries may have
ostensible names, but the name of each of them
is one of the singers,
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The name of each is, eye-singer, ear-singer, head-
singer, sweet-singer, echo-singer, parlor-singer,
love-singer, or something else.
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4 All this time, and at all times, wait the words of true
poems;
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The words of true poems do not merely please, |
The true poets are not followers of beauty, but the
august masters of beauty;
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The greatness of sons is the exuding of the greatness
of mothers and fathers,
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The words of poems are the tuft and final applause of
science.
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5 Divine instinct, breadth of vision, the law of reason,
health, rudeness of body, withdrawnness,
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Gayety, sun-tan, air-sweetness—such are some of the
words of poems.
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6 The sailor and traveler underlie the maker of poems,
the answerer;
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The builder, geometer, chemist, anatomist, phrenolo-
gist, artist—all these underlie the maker of
poems, the answerer.
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7 The words of the true poems give you more than
poems,
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They give you to form for yourself, poems, religions,
politics, war, peace, behavior, histories, essays,
romances, and everything else,
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They balance ranks, colors, races, creeds, and the
sexes,
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They do not seek beauty—they are sought, |
Forever touching them, or close upon them, follows
beauty, longing, fain, love-sick.
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3 They prepare for death—yet are they not the finish,
but rather the outset,
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They bring none to his or her terminus, or to be con-
tent and full;
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Whom they take, they take into space, to behold the
birth of stars, to learn one of the meanings,
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To launch off with absolute faith—to sweep through the
ceaseless rings, and never be quiet again.
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POETS TO COME.
1 POETS to come! orators, singers, musicians to come! |
Not to-day is to justify me, and answer what I am
for;
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But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental,
greater than before known,
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Arouse! Arouse—for you must justify me—you must
answer.
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2 I myself but write one or two indicative words for the
future,
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I but advance a moment, only to wheel and hurry back
in the darkness.
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3 I am a man who, sauntering along, without fully stop-
ping, turns a casual look upon you, and then
averts his face,
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Leaving it to you to prove and define it, |
Expecting the main things from you. |
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I HEAR AMERICA SINGING.
I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear; |
Those of mechanics—each one singing his, as it should
be, blithe and strong;
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The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or
beam,
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The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or
leaves off work;
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The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat—
the deck-hand singing on the steamboat deck;
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The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench—the
hatter singing as he stands;
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The wood-cutter's song—the ploughboy's, on his way in
the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at
sundown;
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The delicious singing of the mother—or of the young
wife at work—or of the girl sewing or washing—
Each singing what belongs to her, and to none
else;
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The day what belongs to the day—At night, the party
of young fellows, robust, friendly,
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Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious
songs.
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