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Part of the cluster SONGS OF PARTING.



OF these years I sing, How they pass and have pass'd, through convuls'd  
 pains, as through parturitions;
How America illustrates birth, muscular youth, the  
 promise, the sure fulfillment, the Absolute Suc- 
 cess, despite of people—Illustrates evil as well as  
How many hold despairingly yet to the models de- 
 parted, caste, myths, obedience, compulsion, and  
 to infidelity;
How few see the arrived models, the Athletes, the  
 Western States—or see freedom or spirituality—  
 or hold any faith in results,
(But I see the Athletes—and I see the results of the war  
 glorious and inevitable—and they again leading  
 to other results;)
How the great cities appear—How the Democratic  
 masses, turbulent, wilful, as I love them;
How the whirl, the contest, the wrestle of evil with  
 good, the sounding and resounding, keep on  
 and on;
  [ begin page 376 ]ppp.00270.378.jpg How society waits unform'd, and is for a while between  
 things ended and things begun;
How America is the continent of glories, and of the  
 triumph of freedom, and of the Democracies,  
 and of the fruits of society, and of all that is  
And how The States are complete in themselves—And  
 how all triumphs and glories are complete in  
 themselves, to lead onward,
And how these of mine, and of The States, will in their  
 turn be convuls'd, and serve other parturitions  
 and transitions,
And how all people, sights, combinations, the Demo- 
 cratic masses, too, serve—and how every fact,  
 and war itself, with all its horrors, serves,
And how now, or at any time, each serves the exquisite  
 transition of death.


OF seeds dropping into the ground—of birth, Of the steady concentration of America, inland, upward,  
 to impregnable and swarming places,
Of what Indiana, Kentucky, Ohio and the rest, are to be, Of what a few years will show there in Nebraska, Col- 
 orado, Nevada, and the rest;
(Of afar, mounting the Northern Pacific to Sitka or  
Of what the feuillage of America is the preparation for  
 —and of what all sights, North, South, East and  
 West, are;
Of This Union, soak'd, welded in blood—of the solemn  
 price paid—of the unnamed lost, ever present in  
 my mind;
—Of the temporary use of materials, for identity's sake, Of the present, passing, departing—of the growth of  
 completer men than any yet,
Of myself, soon, perhaps, closing up my songs by these  
Of California, of Oregon—and of me journeying to live  
 and sing there;
  [ begin page 377 ]ppp.00270.379.jpg Of the Western Sea—of the spread inland between it  
 and the spinal river,
Of the great pastoral area, athletic and feminine, Of all sloping down there where the fresh free giver,  
 the mother, the Mississippi flows,
Of future women there—of happiness in those high  
 plateaus, ranging three thousand miles, warm  
 and cold;
Of mighty inland cities yet unsurvey'd, and unsus- 
 pected, (as I am also, and as it must be;)
Of the new and good names—of the modern develop- 
 ments—of inalienable homesteads;
Of a free and original life there—of simple diet and  
 clean and sweet blood;
Of litheness, majestic faces, clear eyes, and perfect  
 physique there;
Of immense spiritual results, future years, far west,  
 each side of the Anahuacs;
Of these leaves, well understood there, (being made for  
 that area;)
Of the native scorn of grossness and gain there; (O it lurks in me night and day—What is gain, after  
 all, to savageness and freedom?)

Part of the cluster SONGS OF PARTING.

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