The wild gander leads his
Key
| Textual Feature | Appearance |
|---|---|
| Overwritten | brown with strikethrough |
| Added inline | purple with double underline |
| Uncertain | gray with wavy underline |
| Supplied from another source | turquoise with brackets |
| Metamark | |
| Long deletion | gray background with top and bottom border |
[begin leaf 1 recto]
The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night,
Ya‑honk! he says, and sounds it down to me like
an invitation; The pert suppose itis meaningless, ^has no is meaningless, but I listen better closer,
I find it has its place and sign up there toward
the November sky.— Theclawed cat of the forest, the deer, ^huge sharphoofed moose of the north, the cat on the housesill, the chickadee the prairie‑dog,
The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats,
The brood of the turkey‑hen, and she with her
half‑spread wings, I see in them and myself the same old law. The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred
affections, They scorn the best I can do to relate them.— I am enamored of growing outdoors,^Of the drivers of horses— Of men that live among cattle or taste of the
ocean or soil, Of the builders ^and steerers of ships—Of drivers of horses—ofOf wielders Of the wielders of axes and malls.—of ^the drivers of horses,
I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out.
What is ^nearest and commonest ^and nearest and cheapest ^and easiest is Me,
Me going in for my chances, . . . spending
Spending for vast returns,
Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first
that will take me, Not asking the sky to come down toreceive my
good will, Scattering it freely forever.— The pure contralto sings in the organ‑loft, The carpenter dresses his plank, . . . . the tongue of his fore‑plane
whistles its wild ascending lisp, The married and unmarried children ride home to their
thanksgiving dinner, The pilot seizes the king‑pin, . . . . he heaves down with a strong arm,
[begin leaf 1 verso]
The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night,
Ya‑honk! he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation; The pert suppose it
the November sky.— The
half‑spread wings, I see in them and myself the same old law. The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred
affections, They scorn the best I can do to relate them.— I am enamored of growing outdoors,
ocean or soil, Of the builders ^and steerers of ships—
that will take me, Not asking the sky to come down to
good will, Scattering it freely forever.— The pure contralto sings in the organ‑loft, The carpenter dresses his plank
whistles its wild ascending lisp, The married and unmarried children ride home to their
thanksgiving dinner, The pilot seizes the king‑pin
