|
Leaves of Grass (1881-82)
contents
| previous
| next
PIONEERS! O PIONEERS!
| COME my tan-faced children, |
| Follow well in order, get your weapons ready, |
| Have you your pistols? have you your sharp-edged axes? |
| >For we cannot tarry here, |
| We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt of danger, |
| We the youthful sinewy races, all the rest on us depend, |
| O you youths, Western youths, |
| So impatient, full of action, full of manly pride and friendship, |
Plain I see you Western youths, see you tramping with the fore-
most
|
| Have the elder races halted? |
Do they droop and end their lesson, wearied over there beyond
the seas?
|
| We take up the task eternal, and the burden and the lesson, |
| All the past we leave behind, |
| We debouch upon a newer mightier world, varied world, |
| Fresh and strong the world we seize, world of labor and the march, |
| We detachments steady throwing, |
| Down the edges, through the passes, up the mountains steep, |
| Conquering, holding, daring, venturing as we go the unknown ways, |
| We primeval forests felling, |
We the rivers stemming, vexing we and piercing deep the mines
within,
|
| We the surface broad surveying, we the virgin soil upheaving, |
View Page 184
|
From the peaks gigantic, from the great sierras and the high
plateaus,
|
| From the mine and from the gully, from the hunting trail we come, |
| From Nebraska, from Arkansas, |
Central inland race are we, from Missouri, with the continental
blood intervein'd,
|
All the hands of comrades clasping, all the Southern, all the
Northern,
|
| O resistless restless race! |
| O beloved race in all! O my breast aches with tender love for all! |
| O Imourn and yet exult, I am rapt with love for all, |
| Raise the mighty mother mistress, |
Waving high the delicate mistress, over all the starry mistress,
(bend your heads all,)
|
Raise the fang'd and warlike mistress, stern, impassive, weapon'd
mistress,
|
| See my children, resolute children, |
| By those swarms upon our rear we must never yield or falter, |
| Ages back in ghostly millions frowning there behind us urging, |
| On and on the compact ranks, |
With accessions ever waiting, with the places of the dead quickly
fill'd,
|
| Through the battle, through defeat, moving yet and never stopping, |
| Are there some of us to droop and die? has the hour come? |
| Then upon the march we fittest die, soon and sure the gap is fill'd, |
| All the pulses of the world, |
| Falling in they beat for us, with the Western movement beat, |
| Holding single or together, steady moving to the front, all for us, |
View Page 185
|
| Life's involv'd and varied pageants, |
| All the forms and shows, all the workmen at their work, |
| All the seamen and the landsmen, all the masters with their slaves, |
| All the hapless silent lovers, |
| All the prisoners in the prisons, all the righteous and the wicked, |
| All the joyous, all the sorrowing, all the living, all the dying, |
| I too with my soul and body, |
| We, a curious trio, picking, wandering on our way, |
Through these shores amid the shadows, with the apparitions
pressing,
|
| Lo, the darting bowling orb! |
| Lo, the brother orbs around, all the clustering suns and planets, |
| All the dazzling days, all the mystic nights with dreams, |
| These are of us, they are with us, |
All for primal needed work, while the followers there in embryo
wait behind,
|
| We to-day's procession heading, we the route for travel clearing, |
| O you daughters of the West! |
| O you young and elder daughters! O you mothers and you wives! |
| Never must you be divided, in our ranks you move united, |
| Minstrels latent on the prairies! |
(Shrouded bards of other lands, you may rest, you have done
your work,)
|
| Soon I hear you coming warbling, soon you rise and tramp amid us, |
| Not for delectations sweet, |
| Not the cushion and the slipper, not the peaceful and the studious, |
| Not the riches safe and palling, not for us the tame enjoyment, |
| Do the feasters gluttonous feast? |
| Do the corpulent sleepers sleep? have they lock'd and bolted doors? |
| Still be ours the diet hard, and the blanket on the ground, |
View Page 186
|
Was the road of late so toilsome? did we stop discouraged nodding
on our way?
|
| Yet a passing hour I yield you in your tracks to pause oblivious, |
| Till with sound of trumpet, |
Far, far off the daybreak call—hark! how loud and clear I hear
it wind,
|
| Swift! to the head of the army!—swift! spring to your places, |
contents
| previous
| next
|
| |
)
)
)