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Leaves of Grass (1891–1892)

  [ begin page front cover ]ppp.00707.001.jpg   [ begin page front reverse ]ppp.00707.002.jpg   ppp.00707.003.jpg   ppp.00707.004.jpg   ppp.00707.005.jpg   ppp.00707.006.jpg   [ begin page title page ]ppp.00707.009.jpg Leaves of Grass Including
  • SANDS AT SEVENTY . . . 1st Annex,
  • GOOD-BYE MY FANCY . . . 2d Annex,
  • and Portrait from Life.
COME, said my Soul, Such verses for my Body let us write, (for we are one,) That should I after death invisibly return, Or, long, long hence, in other spheres, There to some group of mates the chants resuming, (Tallying Earth's soil, trees, winds, tumultuous waves,) Ever with pleas'd smile I may keep on, Ever and ever yet the verses owning—as, first, I here and now, Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my name, Walt Whitman PHILADELPHIA 
  [ begin page 2 ]ppp.00707.010.jpg COPYRIGHTS, &c.
  • 1st ed'n 1855, Brooklyn (N. Y., South District)—renew'd (1883) 14 yrs.
  • 2d ed'n 1856, Brooklyn—renew'd (1884) 14 yrs.
  • 3d ed'n 1860, Boston, Thayer & Eldridge Pub'rs.
  • 4th ed'n 1867, N.Y., So. Dist.: Pub'd New York.
  • 5th ed'n 1871, Washington, D. C.
  • 6th ed'n 1876—Centennial issue—inc'd'g TWO RIVULETS: two vols.
  • 7th ed'n 1881, Boston, Mass.: Osgood Pub.: [This includes in the present vol. pages 1 to 382.]
  • 8th ed'n 1882, Philadelphia: McKay Pub'r.
  • Sands at Seventy: Annex, 1888—November Boughs—Philadelphia.
  • A Backward Glance, &c.: November Boughs, 1888—Philadelphia.
  • Good-Bye my Fancy: 2d Annex, 1891—Philadelphia.
Library of Congress . . . . . Copyright Office, Washington. No. 18382 W.

To wit: Be it remembered . . . That on the 19th day of May, anno Domini, 1891, Walt Whitman, of Camden, N. J., has deposited in this office the title of a Book, the title or description of which is in the following words, to wit:

  • 2d Annex to Leaves of Grass.
  • Philadelphia . . . David McKay . . . 1891.
The right whereof he claims as author, in conformity with the laws of the United States respecting copyrights. A. R. SPOFFORD, 
  Librarian of Congress.
[Which last-named copyright (holding good to 1919—then, on application, continued 14 years further) expires May 19, 1933.]

☞ As there are now several editions of L. of G., different texts and dates, I wish to say that I prefer and recommend this present one, complete, for future printing, if there should be any; a copy and fac-simile, indeed, of the text of these 438 pages. The subsequent adjusting interval which is so important to form'd and launch'd work, books especially, has pass'd; and waiting till fully after that, I have given (pages 423-438) my concluding words.

W. W.
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ONE'S-SELF I SING . . . . . . . . . 9
AS I PONDER'D IN SILENCE . . . . . . . 9
IN CABIN'D SHIPS AT SEA . . . . . . . . 10
TO FOREIGN LANDS . . . . . . . . . 11
TO A HISTORIAN . . . . . . . . . . 11
TO THEE OLD CAUSE . . . . . . . . 11
EIDÓLONS . . . . . . . . . . . 12
FOR HIM I SING . . . . . . . . . 14
WHEN I READ THE BOOK . . . . . . . . 14
BEGINNING MY STUDIES . . . . . . . . 14
BEGINNERS . . . . . . . . . . . 15
TO THE STATES . . . . . . . . . . 15
TO A CERTAIN CANTATRICE . . . . . . . 16
ME IMPERTURBE . . . . . . . . . . 16
SAVANTISM . . . . . . . . . . . 16
THE SHIP STARTING . . . . . . . . . 16
I HEAR AMERICA SINGING . . . . . . . 17
WHAT PLACE IS BESIEGED? . . . . . . . . 17
SHUT NOT YOUR DOORS . . . . . . . . 17
POETS TO COME . . . . . . . . . . 18
TO YOU . . . . . . . . . . . . 18
THOU READER . . . . . . . . . . 18
STARTING FROM PAUMANOK . . . . . . . . 18
SONG OF MYSELF . . . . . . . . . . 29
TO THE GARDEN THE WORLD . . . . . . . 79
I SING THE BODY ELECTRIC . . . . . . . 81
A WOMAN WAITS FOR ME . . . . . . . 88
SPONTANEOUS ME . . . . . . . . . . 89
O HYMEN! O HYMENEE! . . . . . . . . 93
NATIVE MOMENTS . . . . . . . . . 94
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IN PATHS UNTRODDEN . . . . . . . . . 95
FOR YOU O DEMOCRACY . . . . . . . . 99
THESE I SINGING IN SPRING . . . . . . . 99
RECORDERS AGES HENCE . . . . . . . . 102
TRICKLE DROPS . . . . . . . . . . 104
CITY OF ORGIES . . . . . . . . . . 105
TO A STRANGER . . . . . . . . . . 106
A PROMISE TO CALIFORNIA . . . . . . . 108
NO LABOR-SAVING MACHINE . . . . . . . 108
A GLIMPSE . . . . . . . . . . . 109
A LEAF FOR HAND IN HAND . . . . . . . 109
EARTH MY LIKENESS . . . . . . . . . 109
I DREAM'D IN A DREAM . . . . . . . . 109
TO THE EAST AND TO THE WEST . . . . . . 110
SOMETIMES WITH ONE I LOVE . . . . . . . 110
TO A WESTERN BOY . . . . . . . . . 110
AMONG THE MULTITUDE . . . . . . . . 111
THAT SHADOW MY LIKENESS . . . . . . . 111
FULL OF LIFE NOW . . . . . . . . . 111
SALUT AU MONDE! . . . . . . . . . . 112
SONG OF THE OPEN ROAD . . . . . . . . 120
CROSSING BROOKLYN FERRY . . . . . . . . 129
SONG OF THE ANSWERER . . . . . . . . . 134
OUR OLD FEUILLAGE . . . . . . . . . 138
A SONG OF JOYS . . . . . . . . . . . 142
SONG OF THE BROAD-AXE . . . . . . . . 148
SONG OF THE EXPOSITION . . . . . . . . . 157
SONG OF THE REDWOOD-TREE . . . . . . . 165
A SONG FOR OCCUPATIONS . . . . . . . . . 169
A SONG OF THE ROLLING EARTH . . . . . . . 176
YOUTH, DAY, OLD AGE, AND NIGHT . . . . . . 180
SONG OF THE UNIVERSAL . . . . . . . . 181
PIONEERS! O PIONEERS! . . . . . . . . 183
TO YOU . . . . . . . . . . . 186
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MYSELF AND MINE . . . . . . . . . 189
YEAR OF METEORS (1859-60) . . . . . . . 190
WITH ANTECEDENTS . . . . . . . . . 191
A BROADWAY PAGEANT . . . . . . . . . 193
TEARS . . . . . . . . . . . . 204
TO THE MAN-OF-WAR-BIRD . . . . . . . 204
ABOARD AT A SHIP'S HELM . . . . . . . . 205
ON THE BEACH AT NIGHT . . . . . . . 205
THE WORLD BELOW THE BRINE . . . . . . . 206
SONG FOR ALL SEAS, ALL SHIPS . . . . . . 207
PATROLING BARNEGAT . . . . . . . . 208
AFTER THE SEA-SHIP . . . . . . . . . 209
A BOSTON BALLAD—1854 . . . . . . . 209
A HAND-MIRROR . . . . . . . . . 213
GODS . . . . . . . . . . . . 213
GERMS . . . . . . . . . . . . 214
THOUGHTS . . . . . . . . . . . 214
PERFECTIONS . . . . . . . . . . . 214
O ME! O LIFE! . . . . . . . . . 215
TO A PRESIDENT . . . . . . . . . . 215
I SIT AND LOOK OUT . . . . . . . . 215
TO RICH GIVERS . . . . . . . . . . 216
ROAMING IN THOUGHT . . . . . . . . . 216
A FARM PICTURE . . . . . . . . . 216
A CHILD'S AMAZE . . . . . . . . . . 217
THE RUNNER . . . . . . . . . . 217
BEAUTIFUL WOMEN . . . . . . . . . 217
MOTHER AND BABE . . . . . . . . . 217
THOUGHT . . . . . . . . . . . 217
VISOR'D . . . . . . . . . . . 217
THOUGHT . . . . . . . . . . . 217
GLIDING O'ER ALL . . . . . . . . . 218
THOUGHT . . . . . . . . . . . 218
TO OLD AGE . . . . . . . . . . . 218
LOCATIONS AND TIMES . . . . . . . . 218
OFFERINGS . . . . . . . . . . . 218
FIRST O SONGS FOR A PRELUDE . . . . . . . 219
EIGHTEEEN SIXTY-ONE . . . . . . . . 221
BEAT! BEAT! DRUMS! . . . . . . . . 222
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VIRGINIATHE WEST . . . . . . . . 230
CITY OF SHIPS . . . . . . . . . . 230
THE CENTENARIAN'S STORY . . . . . . . 231
CAVALRY CROSSING A FORD . . . . . . . 235
AN ARMY CORPS ON THE MARCH . . . . . . 236
NOT THE PILOT . . . . . . . . . . 241
THE WOUND-DRESSER . . . . . . . . 241
LONG, TOO LONG AMERICA . . . . . . . 244
DIRGE FOR TWO VETERANS . . . . . . . . 246
I SAW OLD GENERAL AT BAY . . . . . . . 247
NOT YOUTH PERTAINS TO ME . . . . . . 249
RACE OF VETERANS . . . . . . . . . 250
WORLD TAKE GOOD NOTICE . . . . . . . 250
O TAN-FACED PRAIRIE-BOY . . . . . . . . 250
LOOK DOWN FAIR MOON . . . . . . . . 250
RECONCILIATION . . . . . . . . . . 250
HOW SOLEMN AS ONE BY ONE . . . . . . 251
DELICATE CLUSTER . . . . . . . . . 252
TO A CERTAIN CIVILIAN . . . . . . . . 252
LO, VICTRESS ON THE PEAKS . . . . . . . 252
SPIRIT WHOSE WORK IS DONE . . . . . . . 253
ADIEU TO A SOLDIER . . . . . . . . 253
TURN O LIBERTAD . . . . . . . . . 254
O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN . . . . . . . . 262
HUSH'D BE THE CAMPS TO-DAY . . . . . . . 263
THIS DUST WAS ONCE THE MAN . . . . . . 263
BY BLUE ONTARIO'S SHORE . . . . . . . . 264
REVERSALS . . . . . . . . . . . . 276
AS CONSEQUENT . . . . . . . . . . 277
THE RETURN OF THE HEROES . . . . . . . 278
OLD IRELAND . . . . . . . . . . 284
THE CITY DEAD-HOUSE . . . . . . . . 284
THIS COMPOST . . . . . . . . . . 285
UNNAMED LANDS . . . . . . . . . 288
SONG OF PRUDENCE . . . . . . . . . 289
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THE SINGER IN THE PRISON . . . . . . . 292
WARBLE FOR LILAC-TIME . . . . . . . . 293
OUTLINES FOR A TOMB . . . . . . . . 294
OUT FROM BEHIND THIS MASK . . . . . . . 296
VOCALISM . . . . . . . . . . . 297
TO HIM THAT WAS CRUCIFIED . . . . . . . 298
LAWS FOR CREATIONS . . . . . . . . . 299
TO A COMMON PROSTITUTE . . . . . . . 299
I WAS LOOKING A LONG WHILE . . . . . . . 300
THOUGHT . . . . . . . . . . . 300
MIRACLES . . . . . . . . . . . 301
SPARKLES FROM THE WHEEL . . . . . . . 301
TO A PUPIL . . . . . . . . . . . 302
WHAT AM I AFTER ALL . . . . . . . . 303
KOSMOS . . . . . . . . . . . 303
TESTS . . . . . . . . . . . . 305
THE TORCH . . . . . . . . . . 305
O STAR OF FRANCE (1870-71) . . . . . . . 306
THE OX-TAMER . . . . . . . . . . 307
WANDERING AT MORN . . . . . . . . 308
ITALIAN MUSIC IN DAKOTA . . . . . . . 309
WITH ALL THY GIFTS . . . . . . . . 309
MY PICTURE-GALLERY . . . . . . . . . 310
THE PRAIRIE STATES . . . . . . . . 310
PROUD MUSIC OF THE STORM . . . . . . . . 310
PASSAGE TO INDIA . . . . . . . . . . 315
PRAYER OF COLUMBUS . . . . . . . . . . 323
THE SLEEPERS . . . . . . . . . . . 325
TRANSPOSITIONS . . . . . . . . . . . 332
TO THINK OF TIME . . . . . . . . . . 333
DAREST THOU NOW O SOUL . . . . . . . 338
OF HIM I LOVE DAY AND NIGHT . . . . . . 340
YET, YET, YE DOWNCAST HOURS . . . . . . 341
AS IF A PHANTOM CARESS'D ME . . . . . . 341
ASSURANCES . . . . . . . . . . . 342
QUICKSAND YEARS . . . . . . . . . 342
WHAT SHIP PUZZLED AT SEA . . . . . . . 343
TO ONE SHORTLY TO DIE . . . . . . . . 344
NIGHT ON THE PRAIRIES . . . . . . . . 344
THOUGHT . . . . . . . . . . . 345
THE LAST INVOCATION . . . . . . . . 346
PENSIVE AND FALTERING . . . . . . . . 346
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A PAUMANOK PICTURE . . . . . . . . . 351
FACES . . . . . . . . . . . . 353
THE MYSTIC TRUMPETER . . . . . . . . 356
O MAGNET-SOUTH . . . . . . . . . . 359
MANNAHATTA . . . . . . . . . . 360
ALL IS TRUTH . . . . . . . . . . 361
A RIDDLE SONG . . . . . . . . . 362
EXCELSIOR . . . . . . . . . . . 363
THOUGHTS . . . . . . . . . . . 364
MEDIUMS . . . . . . . . . . . 364
WEAVE IN, MY HARDY LIFE . . . . . . . 365
SPAIN, 1873-74 . . . . . . . . . . 365
BY BROAD POTOMAC'S SHORE . . . . . . . 366
FROM FAR DAKOTA'S CAÑONS (JUNE 25, 1876) . . . 366
OLD WAR-DREAMS . . . . . . . . . . 367
WHAT BEST I SEE IN THEE . . . . . . . 368
A CLEAR MIDNIGHT . . . . . . . . . 369
AS THE TIME DRAWS NIGH . . . . . . . . 370
YEARS OF THE MODERN . . . . . . . . 370
ASHES OF SOLDIERS . . . . . . . . . 371
THOUGHTS . . . . . . . . . . . 373
SONG AT SUNSET . . . . . . . . . . 374
MY LEGACY . . . . . . . . . . . 376
CAMPS OF GREEN . . . . . . . . . . 377
THE SOBBING OF THE BELLS . . . . . . . 378
AS THEY DRAW TO A CLOSE . . . . . . . 379
JOY, SHIPMATE, JOY . . . . . . . . . 379
THE UNTOLD WANT . . . . . . . . . 379
PORTALS . . . . . . . . . . . 379
THESE CAROLS . . . . . . . . . . 379
NOW FINALÈ TO THE SHORE . . . . . . . 380
SO LONG! . . . . . . . . . . . 380
WITH INDEX OF CONTENTS . . . . . . 383
WITH INDEX OF CONTENTS . . . . . . . 405
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ONE'S-SELF I sing, a simple separate person, Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse. Of physiology from top to toe I sing, Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy for the Muse, I  
 say the Form complete is worthier far,
The Female equally with the Male I sing.
Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power, Cheerful, for freest action form'd under the laws divine, The Modern Man I sing.


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, 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, Know'st thou not there is but one theme for ever-enduring bards? And that is the theme of War, the fortune of battles, The making of perfect soldiers. Be it so, then I answer'd, I too haughty Shade also sing war, and a longer and greater one  
  than any,
Waged in my book with varying fortune, with flight, advance and  
  retreat, victory deferr'd and wavering,
  [ begin page 10 ]ppp.00707.018.jpg (Yet methinks certain, or as good as certain, at the last,) the field  
  the world,
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.


IN cabin'd ships at sea, The boundless blue on every side expanding, With whistling winds and music of the waves, the large imperious  
Or some lone bark buoy'd on the dense marine, Where joyous full of faith, spreading white sails, She cleaves the ether mid the sparkle and the foam of day, or  
 under many a star at night,
By sailors young and old haply will I, a reminiscence of the land, 
 be read,
In full rapport at last.
Here are our thoughts, voyagers' thoughts, Here not the land, firm land, alone appears, may then by them be  
The sky o'erarches here, we feel the undulating deck beneath our  
We feel the long pulsation, ebb and flow of endless motion, The tones of unseen mystery, the vague and vast suggestions of the  
 briny world, the liquid-flowing syllables,
The perfume, the faint creaking of the cordage, the melancholy  
The boundless vista and the horizon far and dim are all here, And this is ocean's poem.
Then falter not O book, fulfil your destiny, You not a reminiscence of the land alone, You too as a lone bark cleaving the ether, purpos'd I know not  
 whither, yet ever full of faith,
Consort to every ship that sails, sail you! Bear forth to them folded my love, (dear mariners, for you I fold  
 it here in every leaf;)
Speed on my book! spread your white sails my little bark athwart  
 the imperious waves,
Chant on, sail on, bear o'er the boundless blue from me to every  
This song for mariners and all their ships.
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I HEARD that you ask'd for something to prove this puzzle the New  
And to define America, her athletic Democracy, Therefore I send you my poems that you behold in them what you  


YOU who celebrate bygones, Who have explored the outward, the surfaces of the races, the life  
 that has exhibited itself,
Who have treated of man as the creature of politics, aggregates,  
 rulers and priests,
I, habitan of the Alleghanies, treating of him as he is in himself  
 in his own rights,
Pressing the pulse of the life that has seldom exhibited itself, (the  
 great pride of man in himself,)
Chanter of Personality, outlining what is yet to be, I project the history of the future.


TO thee old cause! Thou peerless, passionate, good cause, Thou stern, remorseless, sweet idea, Deathless throughout the ages, races, lands, After a strange sad war, great war for thee, (I think all war through time was really fought, and ever will be  
 really fought, for thee,)
These chants for thee, the eternal march of thee.
(A war O soldiers not for itself alone, Far, far more stood silently waiting behind, now to advance in  
 this book.)
Thou orb of many orbs! Thou seething principle! thou well-kept, latent germ! thou centre! Around the idea of thee the war revolving, With all its angry and vehement play of causes, (With vast results to come for thrice a thousand years,) These recitatives for thee,—my book and the war are one, Merged in its spirit I and mine, as the contest hinged on thee, As a wheel on its axis turns, this book unwitting to itself, Around the idea of thee.
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I MET a seer, Passing the hues and objects of the world, The fields of art and learning, pleasure, sense, To glean eidólons. Put in thy chants said he, No more the puzzling hour nor day, nor segments, parts, put in, Put first before the rest as light for all and entrance-song of all, That of eidólons. Ever the dim beginning, Ever the growth, the rounding of the circle, Ever the summit and the merge at last, (to surely start again,) Eidólons! eidólons! Ever the mutable, Ever materials, changing, crumbling, re-cohering, Ever the ateliers, the factories divine, Issuing eidólons. Lo, I or you, Or woman, man, or state, known or unknown, We seeming solid wealth, strength, beauty build, But really build eidólons. The ostent evanescent, The substance of an artist's mood or savan's studies long, Or warrior's, martyr's, hero's toils, To fashion his eidólon. Of every human life, (The units gather'd, posted, not a thought, emotion, deed, left out,) The whole or large or small summ'd, added up, In its eidólon. The old, old urge, Based on the ancient pinnacles, lo, newer, higher pinnacles, From science and the modern still impell'd, The old, old urge, eidólons. The present now and here, America's busy, teeming, intricate whirl, Of aggregate and segregate for only thence releasing, To-day's eidólons.   [ begin page 13 ]ppp.00707.021.jpg These with the past, Of vanish'd lands, of all the reigns of kings across the sea, Old conquerors, old campaigns, old sailors' voyages, Joining eidólons. Densities, growth, façades, Strata of mountains, soils, rocks, giant trees, Far-born, far-dying, living long, to leave, Eidólons everlasting. Exaltè, rapt, ecstatic, The visible but their womb of birth, Of orbic tendencies to shape and shape and shape, The mighty earth-eidólon. All space, all time, (The stars, the terrible perturbations of the suns, Swelling, collapsing, ending, serving their longer, shorter use,) Fill'd with eidólons only. The noiseless myriads, The infinite oceans where the rivers empty, The separate countless free identities, like eyesight, The true realities, eidólons. Not this the world, Nor these the universes, they the universes, Purport and end, ever the permanent life of life, Eidólons, eidólons. Beyond thy lectures learn'd professor, Beyond thy telescope or spectroscope observer keen, beyond all  
Beyond the doctor's surgery, anatomy, beyond the chemist with  
 his chemistry,
The entities of entities, eidólons.
Unfix'd yet fix'd, Ever shall be, ever have been and are, Sweeping the present to the infinite future, Eidólons, eidólons, eidólons. The prophet and the bard, Shall yet maintain themselves, in higher stages yet, Shall mediate to the Modern, to Democracy, interpret yet to them, God and eidólons.   [ begin page 14 ]ppp.00707.022.jpg And thee my soul, Joys, ceaseless exercises, exaltations, Thy yearning amply fed at last, prepared to meet, Thy mates, eidólons. Thy body permanent, The body lurking there within thy body, The only purport of the form thou art, the real I myself, An image, an eidólon. Thy very songs not in thy songs, No special strains to sing, none for itself, But from the whole resulting, rising at last and floating, A round full-orb'd eidólon.


FOR him I sing, I raise the present on the past, (As some perennial tree out of its roots, the present on the past,) With time and space I him dilate and fuse the immortal laws, To make himself by them the law unto himself.


WHEN I read the book, the biography famous, And is this then (said I) what the author calls a man's life? And so will some one when I am dead and gone write my life? (As if any man really knew aught of my life, Why even I myself I often think know little or nothing of my real  
Only a few hints, a few diffused faint clews and indirections I seek for my own use to trace out here.)


BEGINNING my studies the first step pleas'd me so much, The mere fact consciousness, these forms, the power of motion, The least insect or animal, the senses, eyesight, love, The first step I say awed me and pleas'd me so much, I have hardly gone and hardly wish'd to go any farther, But stop and loiter all the time to sing it in ecstatic songs.
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HOW they are provided for upon the earth, (appearing at inter- 
How dear and dreadful they are to the earth, How they inure to themselves as much as to any—what a paradox  
 appears their age,
How people respond to them, yet know them not, How there is something relentless in their fate all times, How all times mischoose the objects of their adulation and re- 
And how the same inexorable price must still be paid for the same  
 great purchase.


TO the States or any one of them, or any city of the States, Resist  
  much, obey little,
Once unquestioning obedience, once fully enslaved, Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city of this earth, ever after- 
 ward resumes its liberty.


ON journeys through the States we start, (Ay through the world, urged by these songs, Sailing henceforth to every land, to every sea,) We willing learners of all, teachers of all, and lovers of all. We have watch'd the seasons dispensing themselves and passing  
And have said, Why should not a man or woman do as much as  
 the seasons, and effuse as much?
We dwell a while in every city and town, We pass through Kanada, the North-east, the vast valley of the  
 Mississippi, and the Southern States,
We confer on equal terms with each of the States, We make trial of ourselves and invite men and women to hear, We say to ourselves, Remember, fear not, be candid, promulge the  
 body and the soul,
Dwell a while and pass on, be copious, temperate, chaste, mag- 
And what you effuse may then return as the seasons return, And may be just as much as the seasons.
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HERE, take this gift, I was reserving it for some hero, speaker, or general, One who should serve the good old cause, the great idea, the prog- 
 ress and freedom of the race,
Some brave confronter of despots, some daring rebel; But I see that what I was reserving belongs to you just as much as  
 to any.


ME imperturbe, standing at ease in Nature, Master of all or mistress of all, aplomb in the midst of irrational  
Imbued as they, passive, receptive, silent as they, Finding my occupation, poverty, notoriety, foibles, crimes, less im- 
 portant than I thought,
Me toward the Mexican sea, or in the Mannahatta or the Tennes- 
 see, or far north or inland,
A river man, or a man of the woods or of any farm-life of these  
 States or of the coast, or the lakes or Kanada,
Me wherever my life is lived, O to be self-balanced for contingen- 
To confront night, storms, hunger, ridicule, accidents, rebuffs, as  
 the trees and animals do.


THITHER as I look I see each result and glory retracing itself and  
 nestling close, always obligated,
Thither hours, months, years—thither trades, compacts, establish- 
 ments, even the most minute,
Thither every-day life, speech, utensils, politics, persons, estates; Thither we also, I with my leaves and songs, trustful, admirant, As a father to his father going takes his children along with him.


LO, the unbounded sea, On its breast a ship starting, spreading all sails, carrying even her  
The pennant is flying aloft as she speeds she speeds so stately— 
 below emulous waves press forward,
They surround the ship with shining curving motions and foam.
  [ begin page 17 ]ppp.00707.025.jpg


I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear, Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe  
 and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam, The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off  
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deck- 
 hand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing  
 as he stands,
The wood-cutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morn- 
 ing, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
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 him or her and to none else, The day what belongs to the day—at night the party of young  
 fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.


WHAT place is besieged, and vainly tries to raise the siege? Lo, I send to that place a commander, swift, brave, immortal, And with him horse and foot, and parks of artillery, And artillery-men, the deadliest that ever fired gun.


STILL though the one I sing, (One, yet of contradictions made,) I dedicate to Nationality, I leave in him revolt, (O latent right of insurrection! O quench- 
 less, indispensable fire!)


SHUT not your doors to me proud libraries, For that which was lacking on all your well-fill'd shelves, yet  
 needed most, I bring,
Forth from the war emerging, a book I have made, The words of my book nothing, the drift of it every thing, A book separate, not link'd with the rest nor felt by the intellect, But you ye untold latencies will thrill to every page.
  [ begin page 18 ]ppp.00707.026.jpg


POETS to come! orators, singers, musicians to come! Not to-day is to justify me and answer what I am for, But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than  
 before known,
Arouse! for you must justify me.
I myself but write one or two indicative words for the future, I but advance a moment only to wheel and hurry back in the  
I am a man who, sauntering along without fully stopping, turns a  
 casual look upon you and then averts his face,
Leaving it to you to prove and define it, Expecting the main things from you.


STRANGER, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why  
 should you not speak to me?
And why should I not speak to you?


THOU reader throbbest life and pride and love the same as I, Therefore for thee the following chants.



STARTING from fish-shape Paumanok where I was born, Well-begotten, and rais'd by a perfect mother, After roaming many lands, lover of populous pavements, Dweller in Mannahatta my city, or on southern savannas, Or a soldier camp'd or carrying my knapsack and gun, or a miner  
 in California,
Or rude in my home in Dakota's woods, my diet meat, my drink  
 from the spring,
Or withdrawn to muse and meditate in some deep recess, Far from the clank of crowds intervals passing rapt and happy,   [ begin page 19 ]ppp.00707.027.jpg Aware of the fresh free giver the flowing Missouri, aware of mighty  
Aware of the buffalo herds grazing the plains, the hirsute and  
 strong-breasted bull,
Of earth, rocks, Fifth-month flowers experienced, stars, rain, snow, 
 my amaze,
Having studied the mocking-bird's tones and the flight of the  
And heard at dawn the unrivall'd one, the hermit thrush from the  
Solitary, singing in the West, I strike up for a New World.


Victory, union, faith, identity, time, The indissoluble compacts, riches, mystery, Eternal progress, the kosmos, and the modern reports. This then is life, Here is what has come to the surface after so many throes and  
How curious! how real! Underfoot the divine soil, overhead the sun. See revolving the globe, The ancestor-continents away group'd together, The present and future continents north and south, with the  
 isthmus between.
See, vast trackless spaces, As in a dream they change, they swiftly fill, Countless masses debouch upon them, They are now cover'd with the foremost people, arts, institutions, 
See, projected through time, For me an audience interminable. With firm and regular step they wend, they never stop, Successions of men, Americanos, a hundred millions, One generation playing its part and passing on, Another generation playing its part and passing on in its turn, With faces turn'd sideways or backward towards me to listen, With eyes retrospective towards me.
  [ begin page 20 ]ppp.00707.028.jpg


Americanos! conquerors! marches humanitarian! Foremost! century marches! Libertad! masses! For you a programme of chants. Chants of the prairies, Chants of the long-running Mississippi, and down to the Mexican  
Chants of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin and Minnesota, Chants going forth from the centre from Kansas, and thence equi- 
Shooting in pulses of fire ceaseless to vivify all.


Take my leaves America, take them South and take them North, Make welcome for them everywhere, for they are your own off- 
Surround them East and West, for they would surround you, And you precedents, connect lovingly with them, for they connect  
 lovingly with you.
I conn'd old times, I sat studying at the feet of the great masters, Now if eligible O that the great masters might return and study me. In the name of these States shall I scorn the antique? Why these are the children of the antique to justify it.


Dead poets, philosophs, priests, Martyrs, artists, inventors, governments long since, Language-shapers on other shores, Nations once powerful, now reduced, withdrawn, or desolate, I dare not proceed till I respectfully credit what you have left  
 wafted hither,
I have perused it, own it is admirable, (moving awhile among it,) Think nothing can ever be greater, nothing can ever deserve more  
 than it deserves,
Regarding it all intently a long while, then dismissing it, I stand in my place with my own day here.
Here lands female and male, Here the heir-ship and heiress-ship of the world, here the flame of  
  [ begin page 21 ]ppp.00707.029.jpg Here spirituality the translatress, the openly-avow'd, The ever-tending, the finalè of visible forms, The satisfier, after due long-waiting now advancing, Yes here comes my mistress the soul.


The soul, Forever and forever—longer than soil is brown and solid—longer  
 than water ebbs and flows.
I will make the poems of materials, for I think they are to be the  
 most spiritual poems,
And I will make the poems of my body and of mortality, For I think I shall then supply myself with the poems of my soul  
 and of immortality.
I will make a song for these States that no one State may under  
 any circumstances be subjected to another State,
And I will make a song that there shall be comity by day and by  
 night between all the States, and between any two of them,
And I will make a song for the ears of the President, full of weap- 
 ons with menacing points,
And behind the weapons countless dissatisfied faces; And a song make I of the One form'd out of all, The fang'd and glittering One whose head is over all, Resolute warlike One including and over all, (However high the head of any else that head is over all.)
I will acknowledge contemporary lands, I will trail the whole geography of the globe and salute courte- 
 ously every city large and small,
And employments! I will put in my poems that with you is hero- 
 ism upon land and sea,
And I will report all heroism from an American point of view.
I will sing the song of companionship, I will show what alone must finally compact these, I believe these are to found their own ideal of manly love, indi- 
 cating it in me,
I will therefore let flame from me the burning fires that were  
 threatening to consume me,
I will lift what has too long kept down those smouldering fires, I will give them complete abandonment, I will write the evangel-poem of comrades and of love, For who but I should understand love with all its sorrow and joy? And who but I should be the poet of comrades?
  [ begin page 22 ]ppp.00707.030.jpg


I am the credulous man of qualities, ages, races, I advance from the people in their own spirit, Here is what sings unrestricted faith. Omnes! omnes! let others ignore what they may, I make the poem of evil also, I commemorate that part also, I am myself just as much evil as good, and my nation is—and I  
 say there is in fact no evil,
(Or if there is I say it is just as important to you, to the land or  
 to me, as any thing else.)
I too, following many and follow'd by many, inaugurate a religion, 
 I descend into the arena,
(It may be I am destin'd to utter the loudest cries there, the win- 
 ner's pealing shouts,
Who knows? they may rise from me yet, and soar above every thing.)
Each is not for its own sake, I say the whole earth and all the stars in the sky are for religion's  
I say no man has ever yet been half devout enough, None has ever yet adored or worship'd half enough, None has begun to think how divine he himself is, and how cer- 
 tain the future is.
I say that the real and permanent grandeur of these States must  
 be their religion,
Otherwise there is no real and permanent grandeur; (Nor character nor life worthy the name without religion, Nor land nor man or woman without religion.)


What are you doing young man? Are you so earnest, so given up to literature, science, art, amours? These ostensible realities, politics, points? Your ambition or business whatever it may be? It is well—against such I say not a word, I am their poet also, But behold! such swiftly subside, burnt up for religion's sake, For not all matter is fuel to heat, impalpable flame, the essential  
 life of the earth,
Any more than such are to religion.
  [ begin page 23 ]ppp.00707.031.jpg


What do you seek so pensive and silent? What do you need camerado? Dear son do you think it is love? Listen dear son—listen America, daughter or son, It is a painful thing to love a man or woman to excess, and yet it  
 satisfies, it is great,
But there is something else very great, it makes the whole coin- 
It, magnificent, beyond materials, with continuous hands sweeps  
 and provides for all.


Know you, solely to drop in the earth the germs of a greater  
The following chants each for its kind I sing.
My comrade! For you to share with me two greatnesses, and a third one rising  
 inclusive and more resplendent,
The greatness of Love and Democracy, and the greatness of Reli- 
Melange mine own, the unseen and the seen, Mysterious ocean where the streams empty, Prophetic spirit of materials shifting and flickering around me, Living beings, identities now doubtless near us in the air that we  
 know not of,
Contact daily and hourly that will not release me, These selecting, these in hints demanded of me.
Not he with a daily kiss onward from childhood kissing me, Has winded and twisted around me that which holds me to him, Any more than I am held to the heavens and all the spiritual  
After what they have done to me, suggesting themes.
O such themes—equalities! O divine average! Warblings under the sun, usher'd as now, or at noon, or set- 
Strains musical flowing through ages, now reaching hither, I take to your reckless and composite chords, add to them, and  
 cheerfully pass them forward.
  [ begin page 24 ]ppp.00707.032.jpg


As I have walk'd in Alabama my morning walk, I have seen where the she-bird the mocking-bird sat on her nest  
 in the briers hatching her brood.
I have seen the he-bird also, I have paus'd to hear him near at hand inflating his throat and  
 joyfully singing.
And while I paus'd it came to me that what he really sang for was  
 not there only,
Nor for his mate nor himself only, nor all sent back by the echoes, But subtle, clandestine, away beyond, A charge transmitted and gift occult for those being born.


Democracy! near at hand to you a throat is now inflating itself  
 and joyfully singing.
Ma femme! for the brood beyond us and of us, For those who belong here and those to come, I exultant to be ready for them will now shake out carols stronger  
 and haughtier than have ever yet been heard upon earth.
I will make the songs of passion to give them their way, And your songs outlaw'd offenders, for I scan you with kindred  
 eyes, and carry you with me the same as any.
I will make the true poem of riches, To earn for the body and the mind whatever adheres and goes  
 forward and is not dropt by death;
I will effuse egotism and show it underlying all, and I will be the  
 bard of personality,
And I will show of male and female that either is but the equal  
 of the other,
And sexual organs and acts! do you concentrate in me, for I am  
 determin'd to tell you with courageous clear voice to prove  
 you illustrious,
And I will show that there is no imperfection in the present, and  
 can be none in the future,
And I will show that whatever happens to anybody it may be  
 turn'd to beautiful results,
And I will show that nothing can happen more beautiful than  
  [ begin page 25 ]ppp.00707.033.jpg And I will thread a thread through my poems that time and events  
 are compact,
And that all the things of the universe are perfect miracles, each  
 as profound as any.
I will not make poems with reference to parts, But I will make poems, songs, thoughts, with reference to ensemble, And I will not sing with reference to a day, but with reference to  
 all days,
And I will not make a poem nor the least part of a poem but has  
 reference to the soul,
Because having look'd at the objects of the universe, I find there  
 is no one nor any particle of one but has reference to the  


Was somebody asking to see the soul? See, your own shape and countenance, persons, substances, beasts, 
 the trees, the running rivers, the rocks and sands.
All hold spiritual joys and afterwards loosen them; How can the real body ever die and be buried? Of your real body and any man's or woman's real body, Item for item it will elude the hands of the corpse-cleaners and  
 pass to fitting spheres,
Carrying what has accrued to it from the moment of birth to the  
 moment of death.
Not the types set up by the printer return their impression, the  
 meaning, the main concern,
Any more than a man's substance and life or a woman's substance  
 and life return in the body and the soul,
Indifferently before death and after death.
Behold, the body includes and is the meaning, the main concern, 
 and includes and is the soul;
Whoever you are, how superb and how divine is your body, or any  
 part of it!


Whoever you are, to you endless announcements! Daughter of the lands did you wait for your poet? Did you wait for one with a flowing mouth and indicative hand?   [ begin page 26 ]ppp.00707.034.jpg Toward the male of the States, and toward the female of the States, Exulting words, words to Democracy's lands. Interlink'd, food-yielding lands! Land of coal and iron! land of gold! land of cotton, sugar, rice! Land of wheat, beef, pork! land of wool and hemp! land of the  
 apple and the grape!
Land of the pastoral plains, the grass-fields of the world! land of  
 those sweet-air'd interminable plateaus!
Land of the herd, the garden, the healthy house of adobie! Lands where the north-west Columbia winds, and where the south- 
 west Colorado winds!
Land of the eastern Chesapeake! land of the Delaware! Land of Ontario, Erie, Huron, Michigan! Land of the Old Thirteen! Massachusetts land! land of Vermont  
 and Connecticut!
Land of the ocean shores! land of sierras and peaks! Land of boatmen and sailors! fishermen's land! Inextricable lands! the clutch'd together! the passionate ones! The side by side! the elder and younger brothers! the bony- 
The great women's land! the feminine! the experienced sisters  
 and the inexperienced sisters!
Far breath'd land! Arctic braced! Mexican breez'd! the diverse! 
 the compact!
The Pennsylvanian! the Virginian! the double Carolinian! O all and each well-loved by me! my intrepid nations! O I at  
 any rate include you all with perfect love!
I cannot be discharged from you! not from one any sooner than  
O death! O for all that, I am yet of you unseen this hour with  
 irrepressible love,
Walking New England, a friend, a traveler, Splashing my bare feet in the edge of the summer ripples on Pau- 
 manok's sands,
Crossing the prairies, dwelling again in Chicago, dwelling in every  
Observing shows, births, improvements, structures, arts, Listening to orators and oratresses in public halls, Of and through the States as during life, each man and woman  
 my neighbor,
The Louisianian, the Georgian, as near to me, and I as near to  
 him and her,
The Mississippian and Arkansian yet with me, and I yet with any  
 of them,
  [ begin page 27 ]ppp.00707.035.jpg Yet upon the plains west of the spinal river, yet in my house of  
Yet returning eastward, yet in the Seaside State or in Maryland, Yet Kanadian cheerily braving the winter, the snow and ice wel- 
 come to me,
Yet a true son either of Maine or of the Granite State, or the  
 Narragansett Bay State, or the Empire State,
Yet sailing to other shores to annex the same, yet welcoming every  
 new brother,
Hereby applying these leaves to the new ones from the hour they  
 unite with the old ones,
Coming among the new ones myself to be their companion and  
 equal, coming personally to you now,
Enjoining you to acts, characters, spectacles, with me.


With me with firm holding, yet haste, haste on. For your life adhere to me, (I may have to be persuaded many times before I consent to give  
 myself really to you, but what of that?
Must not Nature be persuaded many times?)
No dainty dolce affettuoso I, Bearded, sun-burnt, gray-neck'd, forbidding, I have arrived, To be wrestled with as I pass for the solid prizes of the universe, For such I afford whoever can persevere to win them.


On my way a moment I pause, Here for you! and here for America! Still the present I raise aloft, still the future of the States I  
 harbinge glad and sublime,
And for the past I pronounce what the air holds of the red  
The red aborigines, Leaving natural breaths, sounds of rain and winds, calls as of birds  
 and animals in the woods, syllabled to us for names,
Okonee, Koosa, Ottawa, Monongahela, Sauk, Natchez, Chatta- 
 hoochee, Kaqueta, Oronoco,
Wabash, Miami, Saginaw, Chippewa, Oshkosh, Walla-Walla, Leaving such to the States they melt, they depart, charging the  
 water and the land with names.
  [ begin page 28 ]ppp.00707.036.jpg


Expanding and swift, henceforth, Elements, breeds, adjustments, turbulent, quick and audacious, A world primal again, vistas of glory incessant and branching, A new race dominating previous ones and grander far, with new  
New politics, new literatures and religions, new inventions and arts.
These, my voice announcing—I will sleep no more but arise, You oceans that have been calm within me! how I feel you, fathom- 
 less, stirring, preparing unprecedented waves and storms.


See, steamers steaming through my poems, See, in my poems immigrants continually coming and landing, See, in arriere, the wigwam, the trail, the hunter's hut, the flat-boat, 
 the maize-leaf, the claim, the rude fence, and the backwoods  
See, on the one side the Western Sea and on the other the Eastern  
 Sea, how they advance and retreat upon my poems as upon  
 their own shores,
See, pastures and forests in my poems—see, animals wild and  
 tame—see, beyond the Kaw, countless herds of buffalo  
 feeding on short curly grass,
See, in my poems, cities, solid, vast, inland, with paved streets, 
 with iron and stone edifices, ceaseless vehicles, and com- 
See, the many-cylinder'd steam printing-press—see, the electric  
 telegraph stretching across the continent,
See, through Atlantica's depths pulses American Europe reaching, 
 pulses of Europe duly return'd,
See, the strong and quick locomotive as it departs, panting, blowing  
 the steam-whistle,
See, ploughmen ploughing farms—see, miners digging mines— 
 see, the numberless factories,
See, mechanics busy at their benches with tools—see from among  
 them superior judges, philosophs, Presidents, emerge, drest  
 in working dresses,
See, lounging through the shops and fields of the States, me well- 
 belov'd, close-held by day and night,
Hear the loud echoes of my songs there—read the hints come at  


O camerado close! O you and me at last, and us two only.   ppp.00707.007.jpg   ppp.00707.008.jpg   [ begin page 29 ]ppp.00707.037.jpg O a word to clear one's path ahead endlessly! O something ecstatic and undemonstrable! O music wild! O now I triumph—and you shall also; O hand in hand—O wholesome pleasure—O one more desirer  
 and lover!
O to haste firm holding—to haste, haste on with me.



I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this  
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their  
 parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy.


Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded  
 with perfumes,
I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it, The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.
The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, 
 it is odorless,
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and  
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.
  [ begin page 30 ]ppp.00707.038.jpg The smoke of my own breath, Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and  
My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the pass- 
 ing of blood and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and  
 dark-color'd sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,
The sound of the belch'd words of my voice loos'd to the eddies  
 of the wind,
A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms, The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs  
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields  
 and hill-sides,
The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from  
 bed and meeting the sun.
Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? have you reckon'd  
 the earth much?
Have you practis'd so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?
Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin  
 of all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions  
 of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look  
 through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in  
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.


I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the begin- 
 ning and the end,
But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.
There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now. Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world.   [ begin page 31 ]ppp.00707.039.jpg Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and  
 increase, always sex,
Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life.
To elaborate is no avail, learn'd and unlearn'd feel that it is so. Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well entretied, 
 braced in the beams,
Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical, I and this mystery here we stand.
Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not  
 my soul.
Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn. Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age, Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they  
 discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.
Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man  
 hearty and clean,
Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be  
 less familiar than the rest.
I am satisfied—I see, dance, laugh, sing; As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side through  
 the night, and withdraws at the peep of the day with  
 stealthy tread,
Leaving me baskets cover'd with white towels swelling the house  
 with their plenty,
Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream at my  
That they turn from gazing after and down the road, And forthwith cipher and show me to a cent, Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, and which  
 is ahead?


Trippers and askers surround me, People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the ward  
 and city I live in, or the nation,
The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors old and  
  [ begin page 32 ]ppp.00707.040.jpg My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues, The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love, The sickness of one of my folks or of myself, or ill-doing or loss or  
 lack of money, or depressions or exaltations,
Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful news, 
 the fitful events;
These come to me days and nights and go from me again, But they are not the Me myself.
Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain  
Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next, Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it.
Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with  
 linguists and contenders,
I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.


I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you, And you must not be abased to the other. Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat, Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not  
 even the best,
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valvèd voice.
I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over  
 upon me,
And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your  
 tongue to my bare-stript heart,
And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my  
Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that  
 pass all the argument of the earth,
And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the  
 women my sisters and lovers,
And that a kelson of the creation is love, And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields,
  [ begin page 33 ]ppp.00707.041.jpg And brown ants in the little wells beneath them, And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap'd stones, elder, mullein  
 and poke-weed.


A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any  
 more than he.
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green  
 stuff woven.
Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may  
 see and remark, and say Whose?
Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the  
Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones, Growing among black folks as among white, Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I  
 receive them the same.
And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves. Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon  
 out of their mothers' laps,
And here you are the mothers' laps.
This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers, Darker than the colorless beards of old men, Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths. O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for  
I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and  
  [ begin page 34 ]ppp.00707.042.jpg And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken  
 soon out of their laps.
What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and chil- 
They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the  
 end to arrest it,
And ceas'd the moment life appear'd.
All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.


Has any one supposed it lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I  
 know it.
I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd babe, 
 and am not contain'd between my hat and boots,
And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good, The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good.
I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth, I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and  
 fathomless as myself,
(They do not know how immortal, but I know.)
Every kind for itself and its own, for me mine male and female, For me those that have been boys and that love women, For me the man that is proud and feels how it stings to be  
For me the sweet-heart and the old maid, for me mothers and the  
 mothers of mothers,
For me lips that have smiled, eyes that have shed tears, For me children and the begetters of children.
Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded, I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no, And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be  
 shaken away.
  [ begin page 35 ]ppp.00707.043.jpg


The little one sleeps in its cradle, I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies  
 with my hand.
The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill, I peeringly view them from the top. The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom, I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the pistol  
 has fallen.
The blab of the pave, tires of carts, sluff of boot-soles, talk of the  
The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the  
 clank of the shod horses on the granite floor,
The snow-sleighs, clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snow-balls, The hurrahs for popular favorites, the fury of rous'd mobs, The flap of the curtain'd litter, a sick man inside borne to the  
The meeting of enemies, the sudden oath, the blows and fall, The excited crowd, the policeman with his star quickly working  
 his passage to the centre of the crowd,
The impassive stones that receive and return so many echoes, What groans of over-fed or half-starv'd who fall sunstruck or in  
What exclamations of women taken suddenly who hurry home and  
 give birth to babes,
What living and buried speech is always vibrating here, what howls  
 restrain'd by decorum,
Arrests of criminals, slights, adulterous offers made, acceptances, 
 rejections with convex lips,
I mind them or the show or resonance of them—I come and I  


The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready, The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon, The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged, The armfuls are pack'd to the sagging mow. I am there, I help, I came stretch'd atop of the load, I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other, I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy, And roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps.
  [ begin page 36 ]ppp.00707.044.jpg


Alone far in the wilds and mountains I hunt, Wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee, In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night, Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill'd game, Falling asleep on the gather'd leaves with my dog and gun by my  
The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle and  
My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from  
 the deck.
The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me, I tuck'd my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good  
You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.
I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in the far west, 
 the bride was a red girl,
Her father and his friends sat near cross-legged and dumbly  
 smoking, they had moccasins to their feet and large thick  
 blankets hanging from their shoulders,
On a bank lounged the trapper, he was drest mostly in skins, his  
 luxuriant beard and curls protected his neck, he held his  
 bride by the hand,
She had long eyelashes, her head was bare, her coarse straight  
 locks descended upon her voluptuous limbs and reach'd to  
 her feet.
The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside, I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile, Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and  
And went where he sat on a log and led him in and assured him, And brought water and fill'd a tub for his sweated body and bruis'd  
And gave him a room that enter'd from my own, and gave him  
 some coarse clean clothes,
And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and his awkwardness, And remember putting plasters on the galls of his neck and ankles; He staid with me a week before he was recuperated and pass'd  
I had him sit next me at table, my fire-lock lean'd in the corner.
  [ begin page 37 ]ppp.00707.045.jpg


Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore, Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly; Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome. She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank, She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window. Which of the young men does she like the best? Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her. Where are you off to, lady? for I see you, You splash in the water there, yet stay stock still in your room. Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather, The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them. The beards of the young men glisten'd with wet, it ran from their  
 long hair,
Little streams pass'd all over their bodies.
An unseen hand also pass'd over their bodies, It descended tremblingly from their temples and ribs. The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to  
 the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them,
They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bend- 
 ing arch,
They do not think whom they souse with spray.


The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharpens his knife  
 at the stall in the market,
I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break-down.
Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the anvil, Each has his main-sledge, they are all out, there is a great heat in  
 the fire.
From the cinder-strew'd threshold I follow their movements, The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms, Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand so  
They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.
  [ begin page 38 ]ppp.00707.046.jpg


The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses, the block swags  
 underneath on its tied-over chain,
The negro that drives the long dray of the stone-yard, steady and  
 tall he stands pois'd on one leg on the string-piece,
His blue shirt exposes his ample neck and breast and loosens over  
 his hip-band,
His glance is calm and commanding, he tosses the slouch of his  
 hat away from his forehead,
The sun falls on his crispy hair and mustache, falls on the black  
 of his polish'd and perfect limbs.
I behold the picturesque giant and love him, and I do not stop  
I go with the team also.
In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as  
 forward sluing,
To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object miss- 
Absorbing all to myself and for this song.
Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, 
 what is that you express in your eyes?
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.
My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck on my distant and  
 day-long ramble,
They rise together, they slowly circle around.
I believe in those wing'd purposes, And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me, And consider green and violet and the tufted crown intentional, And do not call the tortoise unworthy because she is not something  
And the jay in the woods never studied the gamut, yet trills pretty  
 well to me,
And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out of me.


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 may suppose it meaningless, but I listening close, Find its purpose and place up there toward the wintry sky.   [ begin page 39 ]ppp.00707.047.jpg The sharp-hoof'd moose of the north, the cat on the house-sill, 
 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 enamour'd of growing out-doors, Of men that live among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods, Of the builders and steerers of ships and the wielders of axes and  
 mauls, and the drivers of horses,
I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out.
What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me, Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns, Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me, Not asking the sky to come down to my good will, Scattering it freely forever.


The pure contralto sings in the organ loft, The carpenter dresses his plank, the tongue of his foreplane whistles  
 its wild ascending lisp,
The married and unmarried children ride home to their Thanks- 
 giving dinner,
The pilot seizes the king-pin, he heaves down with a strong arm, The mate stands braced in the whale-boat, lance and harpoon are  
The duck-shooter walks by silent and cautious stretches, The deacons are ordain'd with cross'd hands at the altar, The spinning-girl retreats and advances to the hum of the big  
The farmer stops by the bars as he walks on a First-day loafe and  
 looks at the oats and rye,
The lunatic is carried at last to the asylum a confirm'd case, (He will never sleep any more as he did in the cot in his mother's  
The jour printer with gray head and gaunt jaws works at his case, He turns his quid of tobacco while his eyes blurr with the manu- 
The malform'd limbs are tied to the surgeon's table, What is removed drops horribly in a pail;   [ begin page 40 ]ppp.00707.048.jpg The quadroon girl is sold at the auction-stand, the drunkard nods  
 by the bar-room stove,
The machinist rolls up his sleeves, the policeman travels his beat, 
 the gate-keeper marks who pass,
The young fellow drives the express-wagon, (I love him, though  
 I do not know him;)
The half-breed straps on his light boots to compete in the race, The western turkey-shooting draws old and young, some lean on  
 their rifles, some sit on logs,
Out from the crowd steps the marksman, takes his position, levels  
 his piece;
The groups of newly-come immigrants cover the wharf or levee, As the woolly-pates hoe in the sugar-field, the overseer views them  
 from his saddle,
The bugle calls in the ball-room, the gentlemen run for their part- 
 ners, the dancers bow to each other,
The youth lies awake in the cedar-roof'd garret and harks to the  
 musical rain,
The Wolverine sets traps on the creek that helps fill the Huron, The squaw wrapt in her yellow-hemm'd cloth is offering moccasins  
 and bead-bags for sale,
The connoisseur peers along the exhibition-gallery with half-shut  
 eyes bent sideways,
As the deck-hands make fast the steamboat the plank is thrown for  
 the shore-going passengers,
The young sister holds out the skein while the elder sister winds it  
 off in a ball, and stops now and then for the knots,
The one-year wife is recovering and happy having a week ago  
 borne her first child,
The clean-hair'd Yankee girl works with her sewing-machine or in  
 the factory or mill,
The paving-man leans on his two-handed rammer, the reporter's  
 lead flies swiftly over the note-book, the sign-painter is  
 lettering with blue and gold,
The canal boy trots on the tow-path, the book-keeper counts at  
 his desk, the shoemaker waxes his thread,
The conductor beats time for the band and all the performers  
 follow him,
The child is baptized, the convert is making his first professions, The regatta is spread on the bay, the race is begun, (how the  
 white sails sparkle!)
The drover watching his drove sings out to them that would  
The pedler sweats with his pack on his back, (the purchaser hig- 
 gling about the odd cent;)
  [ begin page 41 ]ppp.00707.049.jpg The bride unrumples her white dress, the minute-hand of the clock  
 moves slowly,
The opium-eater reclines with rigid head and just-open'd lips, The prostitute draggles her shawl, her bonnet bobs on her tipsy  
 and pimpled neck,
The crowd laugh at her blackguard oaths, the men jeer and wink  
 to each other,
(Miserable! I do not laugh at your oaths nor jeer you;) The President holding a cabinet council is surrounded by the great  
On the piazza walk three matrons stately and friendly with twined  
The crew of the fish-smack pack repeated layers of halibut in the  
The Missourian crosses the plains toting his wares and his cattle, As the fare-collector goes through the train he gives notice by the  
 jingling of loose change,
The floor-men are laying the floor, the tinners are tinning the roof, 
 the masons are calling for mortar,
In single file each shouldering his hod pass onward the laborers; Seasons pursuing each other the indescribable crowd is gather'd, 
 it is the fourth of Seventh-month, (what salutes of cannon  
 and small arms!)
Seasons pursuing each other the plougher ploughs, the mower  
 mows, and the winter-grain falls in the ground;
Off on the lakes the pike-fisher watches and waits by the hole in  
 the frozen surface,
The stumps stand thick round the clearing, the squatter strikes  
 deep with his axe,
Flatboatmen make fast towards dusk near the cotton-wood or  
Coon-seekers go through the regions of the Red river or through  
 those drain'd by the Tennessee, or through those of the  
Torches shine in the dark that hangs on the Chattahooche or  
Patriarchs sit at supper with sons and grandsons and great-grand- 
 sons around them,
In walls of adobie, in canvas tents, rest hunters and trappers after  
 their day's sport,
The city sleeps and the country sleeps, The living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their time, The old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband sleeps  
 by his wife;
And these tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them,   [ begin page 42 ]ppp.00707.050.jpg And such as it is to be of these more or less I am, And of these one and all I weave the song of myself.


I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise, Regardless of others, ever regardful of others, Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man, Stuff'd with the stuff that is coarse and stuff'd with the stuff that  
 is fine,
One of the Nation of many nations, the smallest the same and the  
 largest the same,
A Southerner soon as a Northerner, a planter nonchalant and  
 hospitable down by the Oconee I live,
A Yankee bound my own way ready for trade, my joints the  
 limberest joints on earth and the sternest joints on  
A Kentuckian walking the vale of the Elkhorn in my deer-skin  
 leggings, a Louisianian or Georgian,
A boatman over lakes or bays or along coasts, a Hoosier, Badger, 
At home on Kanadian snow-shoes or up in the bush, or with  
 fishermen off Newfoundland,
At home in the fleet of ice-boats, sailing with the rest and tack- 
At home on the hills of Vermont or in the woods of Maine, or the  
 Texan ranch,
Comrade of Californians, comrade of free North-Westerners, (lov- 
 ing their big proportions,)
Comrade of raftsmen and coalmen, comrade of all who shake  
 hands and welcome to drink and meat,
A learner with the simplest, a teacher of the thoughtfullest, A novice beginning yet experient of myriads of seasons, Of every hue and caste am I, of every rank and religion, A farmer, mechanic, artist, gentleman, sailor, quaker, Prisoner, fancy-man, rowdy, lawyer, physician, priest.
I resist any thing better than my own diversity, Breathe the air but leave plenty after me, And am not stuck up, and am in my place. (The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place, The bright suns I see and the dark suns I cannot see are in their  
The palpable is in its place and the impalpable is in its place.)
  [ begin page 43 ]ppp.00707.051.jpg


These are really the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they  
 are not original with me,
If they are not yours as much as mine they are nothing, or next  
 to nothing,
If they are not the riddle and the untying of the riddle they are  
If they are not just as close as they are distant they are nothing.
This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is, This the common air that bathes the globe.


With music strong I come, with my cornets and my drums, I play not marches for accepted victors only, I play marches for  
 conquer'd and slain persons.
Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in  
 which they are won.
I beat and pound for the dead, I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them. Vivas to those who have fail'd! And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea! And to those themselves who sank in the sea! And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome heroes! And the numberless unknown heroes equal to the greatest heroes  


This is the meal equally set, this the meat for natural hunger, It is for the wicked just the same as the righteous, I make appoint- 
 ments with all,
I will not have a single person slighted or left away, The kept-woman, sponger, thief, are hereby invited, The heavy-lipp'd slave is invited, the venerealee is invited; There shall be no difference between them and the rest.
This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair, This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning, This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face, This the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again.   [ begin page 44 ]ppp.00707.052.jpg Do you guess I have some intricate purpose? Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on  
 the side of a rock has.
Do you take it I would astonish? Does the daylight astonish? does the early redstart twittering  
 through the woods?
Do I astonish more than they?
This hour I tell things in confidence, I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.


Who goes there? hankering, gross, mystical, nude; How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat? What is a man anyhow? what am I? what are you? All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own, Else it were time lost listening to me. I do not snivel that snivel the world over, That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth. Whimpering and truckling fold with powders for invalids, con- 
 formity goes to the fourth-remov'd,
I wear my hat as I please indoors or out.
Why should I pray? why should I venerate and be ceremonious? Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsel'd with  
 doctors and calculated close,
I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.
In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn  
And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.
I know I am solid and sound, To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow, All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means. I know I am deathless, I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter's  
  [ begin page 45 ]ppp.00707.053.jpg I know I shall not pass like a child's carlacue cut with a burnt  
 stick at night.
I know I am august, I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood, I see that the elementary laws never apologize, (I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by, 
 after all.)
I exist as I am, that is enough, If no other in the world be aware I sit content, And if each and all be aware I sit content. One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is my- 
And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten  
 million years,
I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.
My foothold is tenon'd and mortis'd in granite, I laugh at what you call dissolution, And I know the amplitude of time.


I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are  
 with me,
The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate  
 into a new tongue.
I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men. I chant the chant of dilation or pride, We have had ducking and deprecating about enough, I show that size is only development. Have you outstript the rest? are you the President? It is a trifle, they will more than arrive there every one, and still  
 pass on.
I am he that walks with the tender and growing night, I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night.   [ begin page 46 ]ppp.00707.054.jpg Press close bare-bosom'd night—press close magnetic nourishing  
Night of south winds—night of the large few stars! Still nodding night—mad naked summer night.
Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth! Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees! Earth of departed sunset—earth of the mountains misty-topt! Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue! Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river! Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my  
Far-swooping elbow'd earth—rich apple-blossom'd earth! Smile, for your lover comes.
Prodigal, you have given me love—therefore I to you give love! O unspeakable passionate love.


You sea! I resign myself to you also—I guess what you mean, I behold from the beach your crooked inviting fingers, I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me, We must have a turn together, I undress, hurry me out of sight of  
 the land,
Cushion me soft, rock me in billowy drowse, Dash me with amorous wet, I can repay you.
Sea of stretch'd ground-swells, Sea breathing broad and convulsive breaths, Sea of the brine of life and of unshovell'd yet always-ready graves, Howler and scooper of storms, capricious and dainty sea, I am integral with you, I too am of one phase and of all phases. Partaker of influx and efflux I, extoller of hate and conciliation, Extoller of amies and those that sleep in each others' arms. I am he attesting sympathy, (Shall I make my list of things in the house and skip the house  
 that supports them?)
I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the  
 poet of wickedness also.
What blurt is this about virtue and about vice? Evil propels me and reform of evil propels me, I stand indifferent,   [ begin page 47 ]ppp.00707.055.jpg My gait is no fault-finder's or rejecter's gait, I moisten the roots of all that has grown. Did you fear some scrofula out of the unflagging pregnancy? Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work'd over and  
I find one side a balance and the antipodal side a balance, Soft doctrine as steady help as stable doctrine, Thoughts and deeds of the present our rouse and early start. This minute that comes to me over the past decillions, There is no better than it and now. What behaved well in the past or behaves well to-day is not such a  
The wonder is always and always how there can be a mean man  
 or an infidel.


Endless unfolding of words of ages! And mine a word of the modern, the word En-Masse. A word of the faith that never balks, Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time abso- 
It alone is without flaw, it alone rounds and completes all, That mystic baffling wonder alone completes all. I accept Reality and dare not question it, Materialism first and last imbuing. Hurrah for positive science! long live exact demonstration! Fetch stonecrop mixt with cedar and branches of lilac, This is the lexicographer, this the chemist, this made a grammar  
 of the old cartouches,
These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas. This is the geologist, this works with the scalpel, and this is a  
Gentlemen, to you the first honors always! Your facts are useful, and yet they are not my dwelling, I but enter by them to an area of my dwelling.   [ begin page 48 ]ppp.00707.056.jpg Less the reminders of properties told my words, And more the reminders they of life untold, and of freedom and  
And make short account of neuters and geldings, and favor men  
 and women fully equipt,
And beat the gong of revolt, and stop with fugitives and them that  
 plot and conspire.


Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son, Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding, No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from  
No more modest than immodest.
Unscrew the locks from the doors! Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs! Whoever degrades another degrades me, And whatever is done or said returns at last to me. Through me the afflatus surging and surging, through me the cur- 
 rent and index.
I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy, By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have their coun- 
 terpart of on the same terms.
Through me many long dumb voices, Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves, Voices of the diseas'd and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs, Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion, And of the threads that connect the stars, and of wombs and of  
 the father-stuff,
And of the rights of them the others are down upon, Of the deform'd, trivial, flat, foolish, despised, Fog in the air, beetles rolling balls of dung.
Through me forbidden voices, Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil'd and I remove the veil, Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur'd. I do not press my fingers across my mouth, I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart, Copulation is no more rank to me than death is.   [ begin page 49 ]ppp.00707.057.jpg I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me  
 is a miracle.
Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or  
 am touch'd from,
The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer, This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.
If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread of  
 my own body, or any part of it,
Translucent mould of me it shall be you! Shaded ledges and rests it shall be you! Firm masculine colter it shall be you! Whatever goes to the tilth of me it shall be you! You my rich blood! your milky stream pale strippings of my life! Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you! My brain it shall be your occult convolutions! Root of wash'd sweet-flag! timorous pond-snipe! nest of guarded  
 duplicate eggs! it shall be you!
Mix'd tussled hay of head, beard, brawn, it shall be you! Trickling sap of maple, fibre of manly wheat, it shall be you! Sun so generous it shall be you! Vapors lighting and shading my face it shall be you! You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you! Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me it shall be you! Broad muscular fields, branches of live oak, loving lounger in my  
 winding paths, it shall be you!
Hands I have taken, face I have kiss'd, mortal I have ever  
 touch'd, it shall be you.
I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious, Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy, I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause of my  
 faintest wish,
Nor the cause of the friendship I emit, nor the cause of the friend- 
 ship I take again.
That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be, A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the meta- 
 physics of books.
To behold the day-break! The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows, The air tastes good to my palate.   [ begin page 50 ]ppp.00707.058.jpg Hefts of the moving world at innocent gambols silently rising  
 freshly exuding,
Scooting obliquely high and low.
Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous prongs, Seas of bright juice suffuse heaven. The earth by the sky staid with, the daily close of their junction, The heav'd challenge from the east that moment over my head, The mocking taunt, See then whether you shall be master!


Dazzling and tremendous how quick the sun-rise would kill me, If I could not now and always send sun-rise out of me. We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun, We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the day- 
My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of  
Speech is the twin of my vision, it is unequal to measure itself, It provokes me forever, it says sarcastically, Walt you contain enough, why don't you let it out then? Come now I will not be tantalized, you conceive too much of  
Do you not know O speech how the buds beneath you are folded? Waiting in gloom, protected by frost, The dirt receding before my prophetical screams, I underlying causes to balance them at last, My knowledge my live parts, it keeping tally with the meaning of  
 all things,
Happiness, (which whoever hears me let him or her set out in  
 search of this day.)
My final merit I refuse you, I refuse putting from me what I really  
Encompass worlds, but never try to encompass me, I crowd your sleekest and best by simply looking toward you.
Writing and talk do not prove me, I carry the plenum of proof and every thing else in my face, With the hush of my lips I wholly confound the skeptic.
  [ begin page 51 ]ppp.00707.059.jpg


Now I will do nothing but listen, To accrue what I hear into this song, to let sounds contribute  
 toward it.
I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, gossip of flames, 
 clack of sticks cooking my meals,
I hear the sound I love, the sound of the human voice, I hear all sounds running together, combined, fused or following, Sounds of the city and sounds out of the city, sounds of the day  
 and night,
Talkative young ones to those that like them, the loud laugh of  
 work-people at their meals,
The angry base of disjointed friendship, the faint tones of the sick, The judge with hands tight to the desk, his pallid lips pronoun- 
 cing a death-sentence,
The heave'e'yo of stevedores unlading ships by the wharves, the  
 refrain of the anchor-lifters,
The ring of alarm-bells, the cry of fire, the whirr of swift-streak- 
 ing engines and hose-carts with premonitory tinkles and  
 color'd lights,
The steam-whistle, the solid roll of the train of approaching cars, The slow march play'd at the head of the association marching  
 two and two,
(They go to guard some corpse, the flag-tops are draped with  
 black muslin.)
I hear the violoncello, ('tis the young man's heart's complaint,) I hear the key'd cornet, it glides quickly in through my ears, It shakes mad-sweet pangs through my belly and breast. I hear the chorus, it is a grand opera, Ah this indeed is music—this suits me. A tenor large and fresh as the creation fills me, The orbic flex of his mouth is pouring and filling me full. I hear the train'd soprano (what work with hers is this?) The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies, It wrenches such ardors from me I did not know I possess'd  
It sails me, I dab with bare feet, they are lick'd by the indolent  
I am cut by bitter and angry hail, I lose my breath,   [ begin page 52 ]ppp.00707.060.jpg Steep'd amid honey'd morphine, my windpipe throttled in fakes  
 of death,
At length let up again to feel the puzzle of puzzles, And that we call Being.


To be in any form, what is that? (Round and round we go, all of us, and ever come back thither,) If nothing lay more develop'd the quahaug in its callous shell were  
Mine is no callous shell, I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop, They seize every object and lead it harmlessly through me. I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy, To touch my person to some one else's is about as much as I can  


Is this then a touch? quivering me to a new identity, Flames and ether making a rush for my veins, Treacherous tip of me reaching and crowding to help them, My flesh and blood playing out lightning to strike what is hardly  
 different from myself,
On all sides prurient provokers stiffening my limbs, Straining the udder of my heart for its withheld drip, Behaving licentious toward me, taking no denial, Depriving me of my best as for a purpose, Unbuttoning my clothes, holding me by the bare waist, Deluding my confusion with the calm of the sunlight and pasture- 
Immodestly sliding the fellow-senses away, They bribed to swap off with touch and go and graze at the edges  
 of me,
No consideration, no regard for my draining strength or my anger, Fetching the rest of the herd around to enjoy them a while, Then all uniting to stand on a headland and worry me.
The sentries desert every other part of me, They have left me helpless to a red marauder, They all come to the headland to witness and assist against me. I am given up by traitors, I talk wildly, I have lost my wits, I and nobody else am the  
 greatest traitor,
  [ begin page 53 ]ppp.00707.061.jpg I went myself first to the headland, my own hands carried me  
You villain touch! what are you doing? my breath is tight in its  
Unclench your floodgates, you are too much for me.


Blind loving wrestling touch, sheath'd hooded sharp-tooth'd  
Did it make you ache so, leaving me?
Parting track'd by arriving, perpetual payment of perpetual loan, Rich showering rain, and recompense richer afterward. Sprouts take and accumulate, stand by the curb prolific and vital, Landscapes projected masculine, full-sized and golden.


All truths wait in all things, They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it, They do not need the obstetric forceps of the surgeon, The insignificant is as big to me as any, (What is less or more than a touch?) Logic and sermons never convince, The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul. (Only what proves itself to every man and woman is so, Only what nobody denies is so.) A minute and a drop of me settle my brain, I believe the soggy clods shall become lovers and lamps, And a compend of compends is the meat of a man or woman, And a summit and flower there is the feeling they have for each  
And they are to branch boundlessly out of that lesson until it  
 becomes omnific,
And until one and all shall delight us, and we them.


I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars, And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand, and the  
 egg of the wren,
  [ begin page 54 ]ppp.00707.062.jpg And the tree-toad is a chef-d'oeuvre for the highest, And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors of heaven, And the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all machinery, And the cow crunching with depress'd head surpasses any statue, And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels.
I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits, grains, 
 esculent roots,
And am stucco'd with quadrupeds and birds all over, And have distanced what is behind me for good reasons, But call any thing back again when I desire it.
In vain the speeding or shyness, In vain the plutonic rocks send their old heat against my approach, In vain the mastodon retreats beneath its own powder'd bones, In vain objects stand leagues off and assume manifold shapes, In vain the ocean settling in hollows and the great monsters lying  
In vain the buzzard houses herself with the sky, In vain the snake slides through the creepers and logs, In vain the elk takes to the inner passes of the woods, In vain the razor-bill'd auk sails far north to Labrador, I follow quickly, I ascend to the nest in the fissure of the cliff.


I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and  
I stand and look at them long and long.
They do not sweat and whine about their condition, They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of  
 owning things,
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of  
 years ago,
Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.
So they show their relations to me and I accept them, They bring me tokens of myself, they evince them plainly in their  
I wonder where they get those tokens, Did I pass that way huge times ago and negligently drop them?   [ begin page 55 ]ppp.00707.063.jpg Myself moving forward then and now and forever, Gathering and showing more always and with velocity, Infinite and omnigenous, and the like of these among them, Not too exclusive toward the reachers of my remembrancers, Picking out here one that I love, and now go with him on brotherly  
A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my caresses, Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears, Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground, Eyes full of sparkling wickedness, ears finely cut, flexibly moving. His nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him, His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we race around and  
I but use you a minute, then I resign you, stallion, Why do I need your paces when I myself out-gallop them? Even as I stand or sit passing faster than you.


Space and Time! now I see it is true, what I guess'd at, What I guess'd when I loaf'd on the grass, What I guess'd while I lay alone in my bed, And again as I walk'd the beach under the paling stars of the  
My ties and ballasts leave me, my elbows rest in sea-gaps, I skirt sierras, my palms cover continents, I am afoot with my vision. By the city's quadrangular houses—in log huts, camping with  
Along the ruts of the turnpike, along the dry gulch and rivulet bed, Weeding my onion-patch or hoeing rows of carrots and parsnips, 
 crossing savannas, trailing in forests,
Prospecting, gold-digging, girdling the trees of a new purchase, Scorch'd ankle-deep by the hot sand, hauling my boat down the  
 shallow river,
Where the panther walks to and fro on a limb overhead, where  
 the buck turns furiously at the hunter,
Where the rattlesnake suns his flabby length on a rock, where the  
 otter is feeding on fish,
Where the alligator in his tough pimples sleeps by the bayou,   [ begin page 56 ]ppp.00707.064.jpg Where the black bear is searching for roots or honey, where the  
 beaver pats the mud with his paddle-shaped tail;
Over the growing sugar, over the yellow-flower'd cotton plant, over  
 the rice in its low moist field,
Over the sharp-peak'd farm house, with its scallop'd scum and  
 slender shoots from the gutters,
Over the western persimmon, over the long-leav'd corn, over the  
 delicate blue-flower flax,
Over the white and brown buckwheat, a hummer and buzzer there  
 with the rest,
Over the dusky green of the rye as it ripples and shades in the  
Scaling mountains, pulling myself cautiously up, holding on by low  
 scragged limbs,
Walking the path worn in the grass and beat through the leaves of  
 the brush,
Where the quail is whistling betwixt the woods and the wheat-lot, Where the bat flies in the Seventh-month eve, where the great gold- 
 bug drops through the dark,
Where the brook puts out of the roots of the old tree and flows to  
 the meadow,
Where cattle stand and shake away flies with the tremulous shud- 
 dering of their hides,
Where the cheese-cloth hangs in the kitchen, where andirons  
 straddle the hearth-slab, where cobwebs fall in festoons  
 from the rafters;
Where trip-hammers crash, where the press is whirling its cylinders, Wherever the human heart beats with terrible throes under its  
Where the pear-shaped balloon is floating aloft, (floating in it my- 
 self and looking composedly down,)
Where the life-car is drawn on the slip-noose, where the heat  
 hatches pale-green eggs in the dented sand,
Where the she-whale swims with her calf and never forsakes it, Where the steam-ship trails hind-ways its long pennant of smoke, Where the fin of the shark cuts like a black chip out of the water, Where the half-burn'd brig is riding on unknown currents, Where shells grow to her slimy deck, where the dead are corrupt- 
 ing below;
Where the dense-starr'd flag is borne at the head of the regiments, Approaching Manhattan up by the long-stretching island, Under Niagara, the cataract falling like a veil over my countenance, Upon a door-step, upon the horse-block of hard wood outside, Upon the race-course, or enjoying picnics or jigs or a good game  
 of base-ball,
  [ begin page 57 ]ppp.00707.065.jpg At he-festivals, with blackguard gibes, ironical license, bull-dances, 
 drinking, laughter,
At the cider-mill tasting the sweets of the brown mash, sucking  
 the juice through a straw,
At apple-peelings wanting kisses for all the red fruit I find, At musters, beach-parties, friendly bees, huskings, house-raisings; Where the mocking-bird sounds his delicious gurgles, cackles, 
 screams, weeps,
Where the hay-rick stands in the barn-yard, where the dry-stalks  
 are scatter'd, where the brood-cow waits in the hovel,
Where the bull advances to do his masculine work, where the stud  
 to the mare, where the cock is treading the hen,
Where the heifers browse, where geese nip their food with short  
Where sun-down shadows lengthen over the limitless and lonesome  
Where herds of buffalo make a crawling spread of the square  
 miles far and near,
Where the humming-bird shimmers, where the neck of the long- 
 lived swan is curving and winding,
Where the laughing-gull scoots by the shore, where she laughs her  
 near-human laugh,
Where bee-hives range on a gray bench in the garden half hid by  
 the high weeds,
Where band-neck'd partridges roost in a ring on the ground with  
 their heads out,
Where burial coaches enter the arch'd gates of a cemetery, Where winter wolves bark amid wastes of snow and icicled trees, Where the yellow-crown'd heron comes to the edge of the marsh  
 at night and feeds upon small crabs,
Where the splash of swimmers and divers cools the warm noon, Where the katy-did works her chromatic reed on the walnut-tree  
 over the well,
Through patches of citrons and cucumbers with silver-wired leaves, Through the salt-lick or orange glade, or under conical firs, Through the gymnasium, through the curtain'd saloon, through the  
 office or public hall;
Pleas'd with the native and pleas'd with the foreign, pleas'd with  
 the new and old,
Pleas'd with the homely woman as well as the handsome, Pleas'd with the quakeress as she puts off her bonnet and talks  
Pleas'd with the tune of the choir of the whitewash'd church, Pleas'd with the earnest words of the sweating Methodist preach- 
 er, impress'd seriously at the camp-meeting;
  [ begin page 58 ]ppp.00707.066.jpg Looking in at the shop-windows of Broadway the whole forenoon, 
 flatting the flesh of my nose on the thick plate glass,
Wandering the same afternoon with my face turn'd up to the  
 clouds, or down a lane or along the beach,
My right and left arms round the sides of two friends, and I in the  
Coming home with the silent and dark-cheek'd bush-boy, (behind  
 me he rides at the drape of the day,)
Far from the settlements studying the print of animals' feet, or  
 the moccasin print,
By the cot in the hospital reaching lemonade to a feverish patient, Nigh the coffin'd corpse when all is still, examining with a candle; Voyaging to every port to dicker and adventure, Hurrying with the modern crowd as eager and fickle as any, Hot toward one I hate, ready in my madness to knife him, Solitary at midnight in my back yard, my thoughts gone from me  
 a long while,
Walking the old hills of Judaea with the beautiful gentle God by  
 my side,
Speeding through space, speeding through heaven and the stars, Speeding amid the seven satellites and the broad ring, and the  
 diameter of eighty thousand miles,
Speeding with tail'd meteors, throwing fire-balls like the rest, Carrying the crescent child that carries its own full mother in  
 its belly,
Storming, enjoying, planning, loving, cautioning, Backing and filling, appearing and disappearing, I tread day and night such roads.
I visit the orchards of spheres and look at the product, And look at quintillions ripen'd and look at quintillions green. I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul, My course runs below the soundings of plummets. I help myself to material and immaterial, No guard can shut me off, no law prevent me. I anchor my ship for a little while only, My messengers continually cruise away or bring their returns to me. I go hunting polar furs and the seal, leaping chasms with a pike- 
 pointed staff, clinging to topples of brittle and blue.
I ascend to the foretruck,   [ begin page 59 ]ppp.00707.067.jpg I take my place late at night in the crow's-nest, We sail the arctic sea, it is plenty light enough, Through the clear atmosphere I stretch around on the wonderful  
The enormous masses of ice pass me and I pass them, the scenery  
 is plain in all directions,
The white-topt mountains show in the distance, I fling out my  
 fancies toward them,
We are approaching some great battle-field in which we are soon  
 to be engaged,
We pass the colossal outposts of the encampment, we pass with  
 still feet and caution,
Or we are entering by the suburbs some vast and ruin'd city, The blocks and fallen architecture more than all the living cities  
 of the globe.
I am a free companion, I bivouac by invading watchfires, I turn the bridegroom out of bed and stay with the bride myself, I tighten her all night to my thighs and lips. My voice is the wife's voice, the screech by the rail of the stairs, They fetch my man's body up dripping and drown'd. I understand the large hearts of heroes, The courage of present times and all times, How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless wreck of the  
 steam-ship, and Death chasing it up and down the storm,
How he knuckled tight and gave not back an inch, and was faith  
 ful of days and faithful of nights,
And chalk'd in large letters on a board, Be of good cheer, we will  
  not desert you;
How he follow'd with them and tack'd with them three days and  
 would not give it up,
How he saved the drifting company at last, How the lank loose-gown'd women look'd when boated from the  
 side of their prepared graves,
How the silent old-faced infants and the lifted sick, and the sharp- 
 lipp'd unshaved men;
All this I swallow, it tastes good, I like it well, it becomes mine, I am the man, I suffer'd, I was there.
The disdain and calmness of martyrs, The mother of old, condemn'd for a witch, burnt with dry wood, 
 her children gazing on,
The hounded slave that flags in the race, leans by the fence, blow- 
 ing, cover'd with sweat,
  [ begin page 60 ]ppp.00707.068.jpg The twinges that sting like needles his legs and neck, the mur- 
 derous buckshot and the bullets,
All these I feel or am.
I am the hounded slave, I wince at the bite of the dogs, Hell and despair are upon me, crack and again crack the marks- 
I clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs, thinn'd with the  
 ooze of my skin,
I fall on the weeds and stones, The riders spur their unwilling horses, haul close, Taunt my dizzy ears and beat me violently over the head with  
Agonies are one of my changes of garments, I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become  
 the wounded person,
My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.
I am the mash'd fireman with breast-bone broken, Tumbling walls buried me in their debris, Heat and smoke I inspired, I heard the yelling shouts of my com- 
I heard the distant click of their picks and shovels, They have clear'd the beams away, they tenderly lift me forth.
I lie in the night air in my red shirt, the pervading hush is for my  
Painless after all I lie exhausted but not so unhappy, White and beautiful are the faces around me, the heads are bared  
 of their fire-caps,
The kneeling crowd fades with the light of the torches.
Distant and dead resuscitate, They show as the dial or move as the hands of me, I am the clock  
I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort's bombardment, I am there again. Again the long roll of the drummers, Again the attacking cannon, mortars, Again to my listening ears the cannon responsive. I take part, I see and hear the whole,   [ begin page 61 ]ppp.00707.069.jpg The cries, curses, roar, the plaudits for well-aim'd shots, The ambulanza slowly passing trailing its red drip, Workmen searching after damages, making indispensable repairs, The fall of grenades through the rent roof, the fan-shaped explo- 
The whizz of limbs, heads, stone, wood, iron, high in the air.
Again gurgles the mouth of my dying general, he furiously waves  
 with his hand,
He gasps through the clot Mind not me—mind—the entrench-  


Now I tell what I knew in Texas in my early youth, (I tell not the fall of Alamo, Not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo, The hundred and fifty are dumb yet at Alamo,) 'Tis the tale of the murder in cold blood of four hundred and  
 twelve young men.
Retreating they had form'd in a hollow square with their baggage  
 for breastworks,
Nine hundred lives out of the surrounding enemy's, nine times  
 their number, was the price they took in advance,
Their colonel was wounded and their ammunition gone, They treated for an honorable capitulation, receiv'd writing and  
 seal, gave up their arms and march'd back prisoners of war.
They were the glory of the race of rangers, Matchless with horse, rifle, song, supper, courtship, Large, turbulent, generous, handsome, proud, and affectionate, Bearded, sunburnt, drest in the free costume of hunters, Not a single one over thirty years of age. The second First-day morning they were brought out in squads  
 and massacred, it was beautiful early summer,
The work commenced about five o'clock and was over by eight.
None obey'd the command to kneel, Some made a mad and helpless rush, some stood stark and  
A few fell at once, shot in the temple or heart, the living and dead  
 lay together,
The maim'd and mangled dug in the dirt, the new-comers saw  
 hem there,
  [ begin page 62 ]ppp.00707.070.jpg Some half-kill'd attempted to crawl away, These were despatch'd with bayonets or batter'd with the blunts  
 of muskets,
A youth not seventeen years old seiz'd his assassin till two more  
 came to release him,
The three were all torn and cover'd with the boy's blood.
At eleven o'clock began the burning of the bodies; That is the tale of the murder of the four hundred and twelve  
 young men.


Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight? Would you learn who won by the light of the moon and stars? List to the yarn, as my grandmother's father the sailor told it to me. Our foe was no skulk in his ship I tell you, (said he,) His was the surly English pluck, and there is no tougher or truer, 
 and never was, and never will be;
Along the lower'd eve he came horribly raking us.
We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch'd, My captain lash'd fast with his own hands. We had receiv'd some eighteen pound shots under the water, On our lower-gun-deck two large pieces had burst at the first fire, 
 killing all around and blowing up overhead.
Fighting at sun-down, fighting at dark, Ten o'clock at night, the full moon well up, our leaks on the gain, 
 and five feet of water reported,
The master-at-arms loosing the prisoners confined in the after-hold  
 to give them a chance for themselves.
The transit to and from the magazine is now stopt by the sentinels, They see so many strange faces they do not know whom to trust. Our frigate takes fire, The other asks if we demand quarter? If our colors are struck and the fighting done? Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries, we have just begun our  
  part of the fighting.
  [ begin page 63 ]ppp.00707.071.jpg Only three guns are in use, One is directed by the captain himself against the enemy's main- 
Two well serv'd with grape and canister silence his musketry and  
 clear his decks.
The tops alone second the fire of this little battery, especially the  
They hold out bravely during the whole of the action.
Not a moment's cease, The leaks gain fast on the pumps, the fire eats toward the powder- 
One of the pumps has been shot away, it is generally thought we  
 are sinking.
Serene stands the little captain, He is not hurried, his voice is neither high nor low, His eyes give more light to us than our battle-lanterns. Toward twelve there in the beams of the moon they surrender to  


Stretch'd and still lies the midnight, Two great hulls motionless on the breast of the darkness, Our vessel riddled and slowly sinking, preparations to pass to the  
 one we have conquer'd,
The captain on the quarter-deck coldly giving his orders through  
 a countenance white as a sheet,
Near by the corpse of the child that serv'd in the cabin, The dead face of an old salt with long white hair and carefully  
 curl'd whiskers,
The flames spite of all that can be done flickering aloft and below, The husky voices of the two or three officers yet fit for duty, Formless stacks of bodies and bodies by themselves, dabs of flesh  
 upon the masts and spars,
Cut of cordage, dangle of rigging, slight shock of the soothe of  
Black and impassive guns, litter of powder-parcels, strong scent, A few large stars overhead, silent and mournful shining, Delicate sniffs of sea-breeze, smells of sedgy grass and fields by the  
 shore, death-messages given in charge to survivors,
The hiss of the surgeon's knife, the gnawing teeth of his saw,   [ begin page 64 ]ppp.00707.072.jpg Wheeze, cluck, swash of falling blood, short wild scream, and long, 
 dull, tapering groan,
These so, these irretrievable.


You laggards there on guard! look to your arms! In at the conquer'd doors they crowd! I am possess'd! Embody all presences outlaw'd or suffering, See myself in prison shaped like another man, And feel the dull unintermitted pain. For me the keepers of convicts shoulder their carbines and keep  
It is I let out in the morning and barr'd at night.
Not a mutineer walks handcuff'd to jail but I am handcuff'd to  
 him and walk by his side,
(I am less the jolly one there, and more the silent one with sweat  
 on my twitching lips.)
Not a youngster is taken for larceny but I go up too, and am tried  
 and sentenced.
Not a cholera patient lies at the last gasp but I also lie at the last  
My face is ash-color'd, my sinews gnarl, away from me people  
Askers embody themselves in me and I am embodied in them, I project my hat, sit shame-faced, and beg.


Enough! enough! enough! Somehow I have been stunn'd. Stand back! Give me a little time beyond my cuff'd head, slumbers, dreams, 
I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake.
That I could forget the mockers and insults! That I could forget the trickling tears and the blows of the bludg- 
 eons and hammers!
That I could look with a separate look on my own crucifixion and  
 bloody crowning.
  [ begin page 65 ]ppp.00707.073.jpg I remember now, I resume the overstaid fraction, The grave of rock multiplies what has been confided to it, or to  
 any graves,
Corpses rise, gashes heal, fastenings roll from me.
I troop forth replenish'd with supreme power, one of an average  
 unending procession,
Inland and sea-coast we go, and pass all boundary lines, Our swift ordinances on their way over the whole earth, The blossoms we wear in our hats the growth of thousands of  
Eleves, I salute you! come forward! Continue your annotations, continue your questionings.


The friendly and flowing savage, who is he? Is he waiting for civilization, or past it and mastering it? Is he some Southwesterner rais'd out-doors? is he Kanadian? Is he from the Mississippi country? Iowa, Oregon, California? The mountains? prairie-life, bush-life? or sailor from the sea? Wherever he goes men and women accept and desire him, They desire he should like them, touch them, speak to them, stay  
 with them.
Behavior lawless as snow-flakes, words simple as grass, uncomb'd  
 head, laughter, and naivetè,
Slow-stepping feet, common features, common modes and ema- 
They descend in new forms from the tips of his fingers, They are wafted with the odor of his body or breath, they fly out  
 of the glance of his eyes.


Flaunt of the sunshine I need not your bask—lie over! You light surfaces only, I force surfaces and depths also. Earth! you seem to look for something at my hands, Say, old top-knot, what do you want? Man or woman, I might tell how I like you, but cannot,   [ begin page 66 ]ppp.00707.074.jpg And might tell what it is in me and what it is in you, but cannot, And might tell that pining I have, that pulse of my nights and  
Behold, I do not give lectures or a little charity, When I give I give myself. You there, impotent, loose in the knees, Open your scarf'd chops till I blow grit within you, Spread your palms and lift the flaps of your pockets, I am not to be denied, I compel, I have stores plenty and to spare, And any thing I have I bestow. I do not ask who you are, that is not important to me, You can do nothing and be nothing but what I will infold you. To cotton-field drudge or cleaner of privies I lean, On his right cheek I put the family kiss, And in my soul I swear I never will deny him. On women fit for conception I start bigger and nimbler babes, (This day I am jetting the stuff of far more arrogant republics.) To any one dying, thither I speed and twist the knob of the door, Turn the bed-clothes toward the foot of the bed, Let the physician and the priest go home. I seize the descending man and raise him with resistless will, O despairer, here is my neck, By God, you shall not go down! hang your whole weight upon me. I dilate you with tremendous breath, I buoy you up, Every room of the house do I fill with an arm'd force, Lovers of me, bafflers of graves. Sleep—I and they keep guard all night, Not doubt, not decease shall dare to lay finger upon you, I have embraced you, and henceforth possess you to myself, And when you rise in the morning you will find what I tell you is so.


I am he bringing help for the sick as they pant on their backs, And for strong upright men I bring yet more needed help.   [ begin page 67 ]ppp.00707.075.jpg I heard what was said of the universe, Heard it and heard it of several thousand years; It is middling well as far as it goes—but is that all? Magnifying and applying come I, Outbidding at the start the old cautious hucksters, Taking myself the exact dimensions of Jehovah, Lithographing Kronos, Zeus his son, and Hercules his grandson, Buying drafts of Osiris, Isis, Belus, Brahma, Buddha, In my portfolio placing Manito loose, Allah on a leaf, the crucifix  
With Odin and the hideous-faced Mexitli and every idol and image, Taking them all for what they are worth and not a cent more, Admitting they were alive and did the work of their days, (They bore mites as for unfledg'd birds who have now to rise and  
 fly and sing for themselves,)
Accepting the rough deific sketches to fill out better in myself, 
 bestowing them freely on each man and woman I see,
Discovering as much or more in a framer framing a house, Putting higher claims for him there with his roll'd-up sleeves driving  
 the mallet and chisel,
Not objecting to special revelations, considering a curl of smoke  
 or a hair on the back of my hand just as curious as any  
Lads ahold of fire-engines and hook-and-ladder ropes no less to  
 me than the gods of the antique wars,
Minding their voices peal through the crash of destruction, Their brawny limbs passing safe over charr'd laths, their white  
 foreheads whole and unhurt out of the flames;
By the mechanic's wife with her babe at her nipple interceding for  
 every person born,
Three scythes at harvest whizzing in a row from three lusty angels  
 with shirts bagg'd out at their waists,
The snag-tooth'd hostler with red hair redeeming sins past and to  
Selling all he possesses, traveling on foot to fee lawyers for his  
 brother and sit by him while he is tried for forgery;
What was strewn in the amplest strewing the square rod about  
 me, and not filling the square rod then,
The bull and the bug never worshipp'd half enough, Dung and dirt more admirable than was dream'd, The supernatural of no account, myself waiting my time to be one  
 of the supremes,
The day getting ready for me when I shall do as much good as  
 the best, and be as prodigious;
  [ begin page 68 ]ppp.00707.076.jpg By my life-lumps! becoming already a creator, Putting myself here and now to the ambush'd womb of the shadows.


A call in the midst of the crowd, My own voice, orotund sweeping and final. Come my children, Come my boys and girls, my women, household and intimates, Now the performer launches his nerve, he has pass'd his prelude  
 on the reeds within.
Easily written loose-finger'd chords—I feel the thrum of your  
 climax and close.
My head slues round on my neck, Music rolls, but not from the organ, Folks are around me, but they are no household of mine. Ever the hard unsunk ground, Ever the eaters and drinkers, ever the upward and downward sun, 
 ever the air and the ceaseless tides,
Ever myself and my neighbors, refreshing, wicked, real, Ever the old inexplicable query, ever that thorn'd thumb, that  
 breath of itches and thirsts,
Ever the vexer's hoot! hoot! till we find where the sly one hides  
 and bring him forth,
Ever love, ever the sobbing liquid of life, Ever the bandage under the chin, ever the trestles of death.
Here and there with dimes on the eyes walking, To feed the greed of the belly the brains liberally spooning, Tickets buying, taking, selling, but in to the feast never once going. Many sweating, ploughing, thrashing, and then the chaff for pay- 
 ment receiving,
A few idly owning, and they the wheat continually claiming.
This is the city and I am one of the citizens, Whatever interests the rest interests me, politics, wars, markets, 
 newspapers, schools,
The mayor and councils, banks, tariffs, steamships, factories, stocks, 
 stores, real estate and personal estate.
The little plentiful manikins skipping around in collars and tail'd  
  [ begin page 69 ]ppp.00707.077.jpg I am aware who they are, (they are positively not worms or fleas,) I acknowledge the duplicates of myself, the weakest and shallowest  
 is deathless with me,
What I do and say the same waits for them, Every thought that flounders in me the same flounders in them.
I know perfectly well my own egotism, Know my omnivorous lines and must not write any less, And would fetch you whoever you are flush with myself. Not words of routine this song of mine, But abruptly to question, to leap beyond yet nearer bring; This printed and bound book—but the printer and the printing- 
 office boy?
The well-taken photographs—but your wife or friend close and  
 solid in your arms?
The black ship mail'd with iron, her mighty guns in her turrets— 
 but the pluck of the captain and engineers?
In the houses the dishes and fare and furniture—but the host and  
 hostess, and the look out of their eyes?
The sky up there—yet here or next door, or across the way? The saints and sages in history—but you yourself? Sermons, creeds, theology—but the fathomless human brain, And what is reason? and what is love? and what is life?


I do not despise you priests, all time, the world over, My faith is the greatest of faiths and the least of faiths, Enclosing worship ancient and modern and all between ancient  
 and modern,
Believing I shall come again upon the earth after five thousand  
Waiting responses from oracles, honoring the gods, saluting the  
Making a fetich of the first rock or stump, powowing with sticks in  
 the circle of obis,
Helping the llama or brahmin as he trims the lamps of the idols, Dancing yet through the streets in a phallic procession, rapt and  
 austere in the woods a gymnosophist,
Drinking mead from the skull-cup, to Shastas and Vedas admirant, 
 minding the Koran,
Walking the teokallis, spotted with gore from the stone and knife, 
 beating the serpent-skin drum,
Accepting the Gospels, accepting him that was crucified, knowing  
 assuredly that he is divine,
  [ begin page 70 ]ppp.00707.078.jpg To the mass kneeling or the puritan's prayer rising, or sitting  
 patiently in a pew,
Ranting and frothing in my insane crisis, or waiting dead-like till  
 my spirit arouses me,
Looking forth on pavement and land, or outside of pavement and  
Belonging to the winders of the circuit of circuits.
One of that centripetal and centrifugal gang I turn and talk like a  
 man leaving charges before a journey.
Down-hearted doubters dull and excluded, Frivolous, sullen, moping, angry, affected, dishearten'd, atheistical, I know every one of you, I know the sea of torment, doubt, 
 despair and unbelief.
How the flukes splash! How they contort rapid as lightning, with spasms and spouts of  
Be at peace bloody flukes of doubters and sullen mopers, I take my place among you as much as among any, The past is the push of you, me, all, precisely the same, And what is yet untried and afterward is for you, me, all, precisely  
 the same.
I do not know what is untried and afterward, But I know it will in its turn prove sufficient, and cannot fail. Each who passes is consider'd, each who stops is consider'd, not  
 a single one can it fail.
It cannot fail the young man who died and was buried, Nor the young woman who died and was put by his side, Nor the little child that peep'd in at the door, and then drew back  
 and was never seen again,
Nor the old man who has lived without purpose, and feels it with  
 bitterness worse than gall,
Nor him in the poor house tubercled by rum and the bad dis- 
Nor the numberless slaughter'd and wreck'd, nor the brutish koboo  
 call'd the ordure of humanity,
Nor the sacs merely floating with open mouths for food to slip in, Nor any thing in the earth, or down in the oldest graves of the  
  [ begin page 71 ]ppp.00707.079.jpg Nor any thing in the myriads of spheres, nor the myriads of  
 myriads that inhabit them,
Nor the present, nor the least wisp that is known.


It is time to explain myself—let us stand up. What is known I strip away, I launch all men and women forward with me into the Unknown. The clock indicates the moment—but what does eternity indicate? We have thus far exhausted trillions of winters and summers, There are trillions ahead, and trillions ahead of them. Births have brought us richness and variety, And other births will bring us richness and variety. I do not call one greater and one smaller, That which fills its period and place is equal to any. Were mankind murderous or jealous upon you, my brother, my  
I am sorry for you, they are not murderous or jealous upon me, All has been gentle with me, I keep no account with lamentation, (What have I to do with lamentation?)
I am an acme of things accomplish'd, and I an encloser of things  
 to be.
My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs, On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches between the  
All below duly travel'd, and still I mount and mount.
Rise after rise bow the phantoms behind me, Afar down I see the huge first Nothing, I know I was even there, I waited unseen and always, and slept through the lethargic mist, And took my time, and took no hurt from the fetid carbon. Long I was hugg'd close—long and long. Immense have been the preparations for me, Faithful and friendly the arms that have help'd me.   [ begin page 72 ]ppp.00707.080.jpg Cycles ferried my cradle, rowing and rowing like cheerful boatmen, For room to me stars kept aside in their own rings, They sent influences to look after what was to hold me. Before I was born out of my mother generations guided me, My embryo has never been torpid, nothing could overlay it. For it the nebula cohered to an orb, The long slow strata piled to rest it on, Vast vegetables gave it sustenance, Monstrous sauroids transported it in their mouths and deposited  
 it with care.
All forces have been steadily employ'd to complete and delight me, Now on this spot I stand with my robust soul.


O span of youth! ever-push'd elasticity! O manhood, balanced, florid and full. My lovers suffocate me, Crowding my lips, thick in the pores of my skin, Jostling me through streets and public halls, coming naked to me  
 at night,
Crying by day Ahoy! from the rocks of the river, swinging and  
 chirping over my head,
Calling my name from flower-beds, vines, tangled underbrush, Lighting on every moment of my life, Bussing my body with soft balsamic busses, Noiselessly passing handfuls out of their hearts and giving them  
 to be mine.
Old age superbly rising! O welcome, ineffable grace of dying  
Every condition promulges not only itself, it promulges what grows  
 after and out of itself,
And the dark hush promulges as much as any.
I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled systems, And all I see multiplied as high as I can cipher edge but the rim  
 of the farther systems.
Wider and wider they spread, expanding, always expanding, Outward and outward and forever outward.   [ begin page 73 ]ppp.00707.081.jpg My sun has his sun and round him obediently wheels, He joins with his partners a group of superior circuit, And greater sets follow, making specks of the greatest inside them. There is no stoppage and never can be stoppage, If I, you, and the worlds, and all beneath or upon their surfaces, 
 were this moment reduced back to a pallid float, it would  
 not avail in the long run,
We should surely bring up again where we now stand, And surely go as much farther, and then farther and farther.
A few quadrillions of eras, a few octillions of cubic leagues, do not  
 hazard the span or make it impatient,
They are but parts, any thing is but a part.
See ever so far, there is limitless space outside of that, Count ever so much, there is limitless time around that. My rendezvous is appointed, it is certain, The Lord will be there and wait till I come on perfect terms, The great Camerado, the lover true for whom I pine will be there.


I know I have the best of time and space, and was never measured  
 and never will be measured.
I tramp a perpetual journey, (come listen all!) My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff cut from  
 the woods,
No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair, I have no chair, no church, no philosophy, I lead no man to a dinner-table, library, exchange, But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll, My left hand hooking you round the waist, My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents and the public  
Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you, You must travel it for yourself. It is not far, it is within reach, Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not  
Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land.
  [ begin page 74 ]ppp.00707.082.jpg Shoulder your duds dear son, and I will mine, and let us hasten  
Wonderful cities and free nations we shall fetch as we go.
If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the chuff of your hand  
 on my hip,
And in due time you shall repay the same service to me, For after we start we never lie by again.
This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded  
And I said to my spirit When we become the enfolders of those  
  orbs, and the pleasure and knowledge of every thing in  
  them, shall we be fill'd and satisfied then?
And my spirit said No, we but level that lift to pass and continue  
You are also asking me questions and I hear you, I answer that I cannot answer, you must find out for yourself. Sit a while dear son, Here are biscuits to eat and here is milk to drink, But as soon as you sleep and renew yourself in sweet clothes, I  
 kiss you with a good-by kiss and open the gate for your  
 egress hence.
Long enough have you dream'd contemptible dreams, Now I wash the gum from your eyes, You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every  
 moment of your life.
Long have you timidly waded holding a plank by the shore, Now I will you to be a bold swimmer, To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod to me, shout, 
 and laughingly dash with your hair.


I am the teacher of athletes, He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own proves the  
 width of my own,
He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the  
The boy I love, the same becomes a man not through derived  
 power, but in his own right,
  [ begin page 75 ]ppp.00707.083.jpg Wicked rather than virtuous out of conformity or fear, Fond of his sweetheart, relishing well his steak, Unrequited love or a slight cutting him worse than sharp steel  
First-rate to ride, to fight, to hit the bull's eye, to sail a skiff, to  
 sing a song or play on the banjo,
Preferring scars and the beard and faces pitted with small-pox  
 over all latherers,
And those well-tann'd to those that keep out of the sun.
I teach straying from me, yet who can stray from me? I follow you whoever you are from the present hour, My words itch at your ears till you understand them. I do not say these things for a dollar or to fill up the time while I  
 wait for a boat,
(It is you talking just as much as myself, I act as the tongue of  
Tied in your mouth, in mine it begins to be loosen'd.)
I swear I will never again mention love or death inside a house, And I swear I will never translate myself at all, only to him or her  
 who privately stays with me in the open air.
If you would understand me go to the heights or water-shore, The nearest gnat is an explanation, and a drop or motion of waves  
 a key,
The maul, the oar, the hand-saw, second my words.
No shutter'd room or school can commune with me, But roughs and little children better than they. The young mechanic is closest to me, he knows me well, The woodman that takes his axe and jug with him shall take me  
 with him all day,
The farm-boy ploughing in the field feels good at the sound of my  
In vessels that sail my words sail, I go with fishermen and seamen  
 and love them.
The soldier camp'd or upon the march is mine, On the night ere the pending battle many seek me, and I do not  
 fail them,
On that solemn night (it may be their last) those that know me  
 seek me.
  [ begin page 76 ]ppp.00707.084.jpg My face rubs to the hunter's face when he lies down alone in his  
The driver thinking of me does not mind the jolt of his wagon, The young mother and old mother comprehend me, The girl and the wife rest the needle a moment and forget where  
 they are,
They and all would resume what I have told them.


I have said that the soul is not more than the body, And I have said that the body is not more than the soul, And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's self is, And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own  
 funeral drest in his shroud,
And I or you pocketless of a dime may purchase the pick of the  
And to glance with an eye or show a bean in its pod confounds  
 the learning of all times,
And there is no trade or employment but the young man following  
 it may become a hero,
And there is no object so soft but it makes a hub for the wheel'd  
And I say to any man or woman, Let your soul stand cool and  
 composed before a million universes.
And I say to mankind, Be not curious about God, For I who am curious about each am not curious about God, (No array of terms can say how much I am at peace about God  
 and about death.)
I hear and behold God in every object, yet understand God not  
 in the least,
Nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful than  
Why should I wish to see God better than this day? I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four, and each  
 moment then,
In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my own face in  
 the glass,
I find letters from God dropt in the street, and every one is sign'd  
 by God's name,
And I leave them where they are, for I know that wheresoe'er I go, Others will punctually come for ever and ever.
  [ begin page 77 ]ppp.00707.085.jpg


And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to  
 try to alarm me.
To his work without flinching the accoucheur comes, I see the elder-hand pressing receiving supporting, I recline by the sills of the exquisite flexible doors, And mark the outlet, and mark the relief and escape. And as to you Corpse I think you are good manure, but that does  
 not offend me,
I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing, I reach to the leafy lips, I reach to the polish'd breasts of melons.
And as to you Life I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths, (No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.) I hear you whispering there O stars of heaven, O suns—O grass of graves—O perpetual transfers and pro- 
If you do not say any thing how can I say any thing?
Of the turbid pool that lies in the autumn forest, Of the moon that descends the steeps of the soughing twilight, Toss, sparkles of day and dusk—toss on the black stems that  
 decay in the muck,
Toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry limbs.
I ascend from the moon, I ascend from the night, I perceive that the ghastly glimmer is noonday sunbeams reflected, And debouch to the steady and central from the offspring great or  


There is that in me—I do not know what it is—but I know it is  
 in me.
Wrench'd and sweaty—calm and cool then my body becomes, I sleep—I sleep long. I do not know it—it is without name—it is a word unsaid, It is not in any dictionary, utterance, symbol. Something it swings on more than the earth I swing on, To it the creation is the friend whose embracing awakes me.   [ begin page 78 ]ppp.00707.086.jpg Perhaps I might tell more. Outlines! I plead for my brothers  
 and sisters.
Do you see O my brothers and sisters? It is not chaos or death—it is form, union, plan—it is eternal  
 life—it is Happiness.


The past and present wilt—I have fill'd them, emptied them. And proceed to fill my next fold of the future. Listener up there! what have you to confide to me? Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening, (Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute  
Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.) I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab. Who has done his day's work? who will soonest be through with  
 his supper?
Who wishes to walk with me?
Will you speak before I am gone? will you prove already too late?


The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my  
 gab and my loitering.
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world. The last scud of day holds back for me, It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow'd  
It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.
I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags. I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.   [ begin page 79 ]ppp.00707.087.jpg You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, But I shall be good health to you nevertheless, And filter and fibre your blood. Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, Missing me one place search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you.



TO the garden the world anew ascending, Potent mates, daughters, sons, preluding, The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being, Curious here behold my resurrection after slumber, The revolving cycles in their wide sweep having brought me again, Amorous, mature, all beautiful to me, all wondrous, My limbs and the quivering fire that ever plays through them, for  
 reasons, most wondrous,
Existing I peer and penetrate still, Content with the present, content with the past, By my side or back of me Eve following, Or in front, and I following her just the same.


FROM pent-up aching rivers, From that of myself without which I were nothing, From what I am determin'd to make illustrious, even if I stand  
 sole among men,
From my own voice resonant, singing the phallus, Singing the song of procreation, Singing the need of superb children and therein superb grown  
Singing the muscular urge and the blending, Singing the bedfellow's song, (O resistless yearning! O for any and each the body correlative attracting!   [ begin page 80 ]ppp.00707.088.jpg O for you whoever you are your correlative body! O it, more than  
 all else, you delighting!)
From the hungry gnaw that eats me night and day, From native moments, from bashful pains, singing them, Seeking something yet unfound though I have diligently sought it  
 many a long year,
Singing the true song of the soul fitful at random, Renascent with grossest Nature or among animals, Of that, of them and what goes with them my poems informing, Of the smell of apples and lemons, of the pairing of birds, Of the wet of woods, of the lapping of waves, Of the mad pushes of waves upon the land, I them chanting, The overture lightly sounding, the strain anticipating, The welcome nearness, the sight of the perfect body, The swimmer swimming naked in the bath, or motionless on his  
 back lying and floating,
The female form approaching, I pensive, love-flesh tremulous  
The divine list for myself or you or for any one making, The face, the limbs, the index from head to foot, and what it  
The mystic deliria, the madness amorous, the utter abandonment, (Hark close and still what I now whisper to you, I love you, O you entirely possess me, O that you and I escape from the rest and go utterly off, free and  
Two hawks in the air, two fishes swimming in the sea not more  
 lawless than we;)
The furious storm through me careering, I passionately trembling. The oath of the inseparableness of two together, of the woman  
 that loves me and whom I love more than my life, that oath  
(O I willingly stake all for you, O let me be lost if it must be so! O you and I! what is it to us what the rest do or think? What is all else to us? only that we enjoy each other and exhaust  
 each other if it must be so;)
From the master, the pilot I yield the vessel to, The general commanding me, commanding all, from him permis- 
 sion taking,
From time the programme hastening, (I have loiter'd too long as  
 it is,)
From sex, from the warp and from the woof, From privacy, from frequent repinings alone, From plenty of persons near and yet the right person not near,   [ begin page 81 ]ppp.00707.089.jpg From the soft sliding of hands over me and thrusting of fingers  
 through my hair and beard,
From the long sustain'd kiss upon the mouth or bosom, From the close pressure that makes me or any man drunk, fainting  
 with excess,
From what the divine husband knows, from the work of fatherhood, From exultation, victory and relief, from the bedfellow's embrace  
 in the night,
From the act-poems of eyes, hands, hips and bosoms, From the cling of the trembling arm, From the bending curve and the clinch, From side by side the pliant coverlet off-throwing, From the one so unwilling to have me leave, and me just as un- 
 willing to leave,
(Yet a moment O tender waiter, and I return,) From the hour of shining stars and dropping dews, From the night a moment I emerging flitting out, Celebrate you act divine and you children prepared for, And you stalwart loins.



I SING the body electric, The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them, They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them, And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the  
Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal  
And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile  
 the dead?
And if the body does not do fully as much as the soul? And if the body were not the soul, what is the soul?


The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body  
 itself balks account,
That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect.
The expression of the face balks account, But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his  
  [ begin page 82 ]ppp.00707.090.jpg It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his  
 hips and wrists,
It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and  
 knees, dress does not hide him,
The strong sweet quality he has strikes through the cotton and  
To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more, You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoul- 
The sprawl and fulness of babes, the bosoms and heads of women,  
 the folds of their dress, their style as we pass in the street,  
 the contour of their shape downwards,
The swimmer naked in the swimming-bath, seen as he swims  
 through the transparent green-shine, or lies with his face  
 up and rolls silently to and fro in the heave of the water,
The bending forward and backward of rowers in row-boats, the  
 horseman in his saddle,
Girls, mothers, house-keepers, in all their performances, The group of laborers seated at noon-time with their open dinner- 
 kettles, and their wives waiting,
The female soothing a child, the farmer's daughter in the garden  
 or cow-yard,
The young fellow hoeing corn, the sleigh-driver driving his six  
 horses through the crowd,
The wrestle of wrestlers, two apprentice-boys, quite grown, lusty,  
 good-natured, native-born, out on the vacant lot at sun- 
 down after work,
The coats and caps thrown down, the embrace of love and resistance, The upper-hold and under-hold, the hair rumpled over and blind- 
 ing the eyes;
The march of firemen in their own costumes, the play of mascu- 
 line muscle through clean-setting trowsers and waist-straps,
The slow return from the fire, the pause when the bell strikes  
 suddenly again, and the listening on the alert,
The natural, perfect, varied attitudes, the bent head, the curv'd  
 neck and the counting;
Such-like I love—I loosen myself, pass freely, am at the mother's  
 breast with the little child,
Swim with the swimmers, wrestle with wrestlers, march in line with  
 the firemen, and pause, listen, count.


I knew a man, a common farmer, the father of five sons, And in them the fathers of sons, and in them the fathers of sons.   [ begin page 83 ]ppp.00707.091.jpg This man was of wonderful vigor, calmness, beauty of person, The shape of his head, the pale yellow and white of his hair and  
 beard, the immeasurable meaning of his black eyes, the  
 richness and breadth of his manners,
These I used to go and visit him to see, he was wise also, He was six feet tall, he was over eighty years old, his sons were  
 massive, clean, bearded, tan-faced, handsome,
They and his daughters loved him, all who saw him loved him, They did not love him by allowance, they loved him with personal  
He drank water only, the blood show'd like scarlet through the  
 clear-brown skin of his face,
He was a frequent gunner and fisher, he sail'd his boat himself,  
 he had a fine one presented to him by a ship-joiner, he  
 had fowling-pieces presented to him by men that loved  
When he went with his five sons and many grand-sons to hunt or  
 fish, you would pick him out as the most beautiful and  
 vigorous of the gang,
You would wish long and long to be with him, you would wish to  
 sit by him in the boat that you and he might touch each  


I have perceiv'd that to be with those I like is enough, To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough, To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh  
 is enough,
To pass among them or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so  
 lightly round his or her neck for a moment, what is this  
I do not ask any more delight, I swim in it as in a sea.
There is something in staying close to men and women and look- 
 ing on them, and in the contact and odor of them, that  
 pleases the soul well,
All things please the soul, but these please the soul well.


This is the female form, A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot, It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction, I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless  
 vapor, all falls aside but myself and it,
Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth, and what was  
 expected of heaven or fear'd of hell, are now consumed,
  [ begin page 84 ]ppp.00707.092.jpg Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it, the response  
 likewise ungovernable,
Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands all dif  
 fused, mine too diffused,
Ebb stung by the flow and flow stung by the ebb, love-flesh swell- 
 ing and deliciously aching,
Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of  
 love, white-blow and delirious juice,
Bridegroom night of love working surely and softly into the pros- 
 trate dawn,
Undulating into the willing and yielding day, Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh'd day.
This the nucleus—after the child is born of woman, man is born  
 of woman,
This the bath of birth, this the merge of small and large, and the  
 outlet again.
Be not ashamed women, your privilege encloses the rest, and is the  
 exit of the rest,
You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul.
The female contains all qualities and tempers them, She is in her place and moves with perfect balance, She is all things duly veil'd, she is both passive and active, She is to conceive daughters as well as sons, and sons as well as  
As I see my soul reflected in Nature, As I see through a mist, One with inexpressible completeness,  
 sanity, beauty,
See the bent head and arms folded over the breast, the Female  
 I see.


The male is not less the soul nor more, he too is in his place, He too is all qualities, he is action and power, The flush of the known universe is in him, Scorn becomes him well, and appetite and defiance become him  
The wildest largest passions, bliss that is utmost, sorrow that is  
 utmost become him well, pride is for him,
The full-spread pride of man is calming and excellent to the soul, Knowledge becomes him, he likes it always, he brings every thing  
 to the test of himself,
  [ begin page 85 ]ppp.00707.093.jpg Whatever the survey, whatever the sea and the sail he strikes  
 soundings at last only here,
(Where else does he strike soundings except here?)
The man's body is sacred and the woman's body is sacred, No matter who it is, it is sacred—is it the meanest one in the  
 laborers' gang?
Is it one of the dull-faced immigrants just landed on the wharf? Each belongs here or anywhere just as much as the well-off, just  
 as much as you,
Each has his or her place in the procession.
(All is a procession, The universe is a procession with measured and perfect motion.) Do you know so much yourself that you call the meanest ignorant? Do you suppose you have a right to a good sight, and he or she  
 has no right to a sight?
Do you think matter has cohered together from its diffuse float,  
 and the soil is on the surface, and water runs and vegeta- 
 tion sprouts,
For you only, and not for him and her?


A man's body at auction, (For before the war I often go to the slave-mart and watch the  
I help the auctioneer, the sloven does not half know his business.
Gentlemen look on this wonder, Whatever the bids of the bidders they cannot be high enough for it, For it the globe lay preparing quintillions of years without one  
 animal or plant,
For it the revolving cycles truly and steadily roll'd.
In this head the all-baffling brain, In it and below it the makings of heroes. Examine these limbs, red, black, or white, they are cunning in  
 tendon and nerve,
They shall be stript that you may see them.
Exquisite senses, life-lit eyes, pluck, volition, Flakes of breast-muscle, pliant backbone and neck, flesh not  
 flabby, good-sized arms and legs,
And wonders within there yet.
  [ begin page 86 ]ppp.00707.094.jpg Within there runs blood, The same old blood! the same red-running blood! There swells and jets a heart, there all passions, desires, reachings,  
(Do you think they are not there because they are not express'd in  
 parlors and lecture-rooms?)
This is not only one man, this the father of those who shall be  
 fathers in their turns,
In him the start of populous states and rich republics, Of him countless immortal lives with countless embodiments and  
How do you know who shall come from the offspring of his off- 
 spring through the centuries?
(Who might you find you have come from yourself, if you could  
 trace back through the centuries?)


A woman's body at auction, She too is not only herself, she is the teeming mother of mothers, She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be mates to the  
Have you ever loved the body of a woman? Have you ever loved the body of a man? Do you not see that these are exactly the same to all in all nations  
 and times all over the earth?
If any thing is sacred the human body is sacred, And the glory and sweet of a man is the token of manhood  
And in man or woman a clean, strong, firm-fibred body, is more  
 beautiful than the most beautiful face.
Have you seen the fool that corrupted his own live body? or the  
 fool that corrupted her own live body?
For they do not conceal themselves, and cannot conceal themselves.


O my body! I dare not desert the likes of you in other men and  
 women, nor the likes of the parts of you,
I believe the likes of you are to stand or fall with the likes of the  
 soul, (and that they are the soul,)
  [ begin page 87 ]ppp.00707.095.jpg I believe the likes of you shall stand or fall with my poems, and  
 that they are my poems,
Man's, woman's, child's, youth's, wife's, husband's, mother's, father's,  
 young man's, young woman's poems,
Head, neck, hair, ears, drop and tympan of the ears, Eyes, eye-fringes, iris of the eye, eyebrows, and the waking or  
 sleeping of the lids,
Mouth, tongue, lips, teeth, roof of the mouth, jaws, and the jaw- 
Nose, nostrils of the nose, and the partition, Cheeks, temples, forehead, chin, throat, back of the neck, neck- 
Strong shoulders, manly beard, scapula, hind-shoulders, and the  
 ample side-round of the chest,
Upper-arm, armpit, elbow-socket, lower-arm, arm-sinews, arm- 
Wrist and wrist-joints, hand, palm, knuckles, thumb, forefinger,  
 finger-joints, finger-nails,
Broad breast-front, curling hair of the breast, breast-bone, breast- 
Ribs, belly, backbone, joints of the backbone, Hips, hip-sockets, hip-strength, inward and outward round, man- 
 balls, man-root,
Strong set of thighs, well carrying the trunk above, Leg-fibres, knee, knee-pan, upper-leg, under-leg, Ankles, instep, foot-ball, toes, toe-joints, the heel; All attitudes, all the shapeliness, all the belongings of my or your  
 body or of any one's body, male or female,
The lung-sponges, the stomach-sac, the bowels sweet and clean, The brain in its folds inside the skull-frame, Sympathies, heart-valves, palate-valves, sexuality, maternity, Womanhood, and all that is a woman, and the man that comes  
 from woman,
The womb, the teats, nipples, breast-milk, tears, laughter, weeping,  
 love-looks, love-perturbations and risings,
The voice, articulation, language, whispering, shouting aloud, Food, drink, pulse, digestion, sweat, sleep, walking, swimming, Poise on the hips, leaping, reclining, embracing, arm-curving and  
The continual changes of the flex of the mouth, and around the  
The skin, the sunburnt shade, freckles, hair, The curious sympathy one feels when feeling with the hand the  
 naked meat of the body,
The circling rivers the breath, and breathing it in and out,   [ begin page 88 ]ppp.00707.096.jpg The beauty of the waist, and thence of the hips, and thence down- 
 ward toward the knees,
The thin red jellies within you or within me, the bones and the  
 marrow in the bones,
The exquisite realization of health; O I say these are not the parts and poems of the body only, but  
 of the soul,
O I say now these are the soul!


A WOMAN waits for me, she contains all, nothing is lacking, Yet all were lacking if sex were lacking, or if the moisture of the  
 right man were lacking.
Sex contains all, bodies, souls, Meanings, proofs, purities, delicacies, results, promulgations, Songs, commands, health, pride, the maternal mystery, the seminal  
All hopes, benefactions, bestowals, all the passions, loves, beauties, 
 delights of the earth,
All the governments, judges, gods, follow'd persons of the earth, These are contain'd in sex as parts of itself and justifications of  
Without shame the man I like knows and avows the deliciousness  
 of his sex,
Without shame the woman I like knows and avows hers.
Now I will dismiss myself from impassive women, I will go stay with her who waits for me, and with those women  
 that are warm-blooded and sufficient for me,
I see that they understand me and do not deny me, I see that they are worthy of me, I will be the robust husband  
 of those women.
They are not one jot less than I am, They are tann'd in the face by shining suns and blowing winds, Their flesh has the old divine suppleness and strength, They know how to swim, row, ride, wrestle, shoot, run, strike, 
 retreat, advance, resist, defend themselves,
They are ultimate in their own right—they are calm, clear, well- 
 possess'd of themselves.
  [ begin page 89 ]ppp.00707.097.jpg I draw you close to me, you women, I cannot let you go, I would do you good, I am for you, and you are for me, not only for our own sake, but  
 for others' sakes,
Envelop'd in you sleep greater heroes and bards, They refuse to awake at the touch of any man but me.
It is I, you women, I make my way, I am stern, acrid, large, undissuadable, but I love you, I do not hurt you any more than is necessary for you, I pour the stuff to start sons and daughters fit for these States, I  
 press with slow rude muscle,
I brace myself effectually, I listen to no entreaties, I dare not withdraw till I deposit what has so long accumulated  
 within me.
Through you I drain the pent-up rivers of myself, In you I wrap a thousand onward years, On you I graft the grafts of the best-beloved of me and America, The drops I distil upon you shall grow fierce and athletic girls, 
 new artists, musicians, and singers,
The babes I beget upon you are to beget babes in their turn, I shall demand perfect men and women out of my love-spendings, I shall expect them to interpenetrate with others, as I and you  
 interpenetrate now,
I shall count on the fruits of the gushing showers of them, as I  
 count on the fruits of the gushing showers I give now,
I shall look for loving crops from the birth, life, death, immortality, 
 I plant so lovingly now.


SPONTANEOUS me, Nature, The loving day, the mounting sun, the friend I am happy with, The arm of my friend hanging idly over my shoulder, The hillside whiten'd with blossoms of the mountain ash, The same late in autumn, the hues of red, yellow, drab, purple, 
 and light and dark green,
The rich coverlet of the grass, animals and birds, the private  
 untrimm'd bank, the primitive apples, the pebble-stones,
Beautiful dripping fragments, the negligent list of one after an- 
 other as I happen to call them to me or think of them,
The real poems, (what we call poems being merely pictures,) The poems of the privacy of the night, and of men like me,   [ begin page 90 ]ppp.00707.098.jpg This poem drooping shy and unseen that I always carry, and that  
 all men carry,
(Know once for all, avow'd on purpose, wherever are men like  
 me, are our lusty lurking masculine poems,)
Love-thoughts, love-juice, love-odor, love-yielding, love-climbers, 
 and the climbing sap,
Arms and hands of love, lips of love, phallic thumb of love, breasts  
 of love, bellies press'd and glued together with love,
Earth of chaste love, life that is only life after love, The body of my love, the body of the woman I love, the body  
 of the man, the body of the earth,
Soft forenoon airs that blow from the south-west, The hairy wild-bee that murmurs and hankers up and down, that  
 gripes the full-grown lady-flower, curves upon her with  
 amorous firm legs, takes his will of her, and holds himself  
 tremulous and tight till he is satisfied;
The wet of woods through the early hours, Two sleepers at night lying close together as they sleep, one with an  
 arm slanting down across and below the waist of the other,
The smell of apples, aromas from crush'd sage-plant, mint, birch- 
The boy's longings, the glow and pressure as he confides to me  
 what he was dreaming,
The dead leaf whirling its spiral whirl and falling still and content  
 to the ground,
The no-form'd stings that sights, people, objects, sting me with, The hubb'd sting of myself, stinging me as much as it ever can  
 any one,
The sensitive, orbic, underlapp'd brothers, that only privileged  
 feelers may be intimate where they are,
The curious roamer the hand roaming all over the body, the  
 bashful withdrawing of flesh where the fingers soothingly  
 pause and edge themselves,
The limpid liquid within the young man, The vex'd corrosion so pensive and so painful, The torment, the irritable tide that will not be at rest, The like of the same I feel, the like of the same in others, The young man that flushes and flushes, and the young woman  
 that flushes and flushes,
The young man that wakes deep at night, the hot hand seeking to  
 repress what would master him,
The mystic amorous night, the strange half-welcome pangs, visions, 
The pulse pounding through palms and trembling encircling  
 fingers, the young man all color'd, red, ashamed, angry;
  [ begin page 91 ]ppp.00707.099.jpg The souse upon me of my lover the sea, as I lie willing and naked, The merriment of the twin babes that crawl over the grass in the  
 sun, the mother never turning her vigilant eyes from them,
The walnut-trunk, the walnut-husks, and the ripening or ripen'd  
 long-round walnuts,
The continence of vegetables, birds, animals, The consequent meanness of me should I skulk or find myself  
 indecent, while birds and animals never once skulk or  
 find themselves indecent,
The great chastity of paternity, to match the great chastity of  
The oath of procreation I have sworn, my Adamic and fresh  
The greed that eats me day and night with hungry gnaw, till I  
 saturate what shall produce boys to fill my place when I  
 am through,
The wholesome relief, repose, content, And this bunch pluck'd at random from myself, It has done its work—I toss it carelessly to fall where it may.


ONE hour to madness and joy! O furious! O confine me not! (What is this that frees me so in storms? What do my shouts amid lightnings and raging winds mean?) O to drink the mystic deliria deeper than any other man! O savage and tender achings! (I bequeath them to you my  
I tell them to you, for reasons, O bridegroom and bride.)
O to be yielded to you whoever you are, and you to be yielded to  
 me in defiance of the world!
O to return to Paradise! O bashful and feminine! O to draw you to me, to plant on you for the first time the lips of  
 a determin'd man.
O the puzzle, the thrice-tied knot, the deep and dark pool, all  
 untied and illumin'd!
O to speed where there is space enough and air enough at last! To be absolv'd from previous ties and conventions, I from mine  
 and you from yours!
To find a new unthought-of nonchalance with the best of Nature!   [ begin page 92 ]ppp.00707.100.jpg To have the gag remov'd from one's mouth! To have the feeling to-day or any day I am sufficient as I am.
O something unprov'd! something in a trance! To escape utterly from others' anchors and holds! To drive free! to love free! to dash reckless and dangerous! To court destruction with taunts, with invitations! To ascend, to leap to the heavens of the love indicated to me! To rise thither with my inebriate soul! To be lost if it must be so! To feed the remainder of life with one hour of fulness and freedom! With one brief hour of madness and joy.


OUT of the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop gently to me, Whispering I love you, before long I die, I have travel'd a long way merely to look on you to touch you, For I could not die till I once look'd on you, For I fear'd I might afterward lose you. Now we have met, we have look'd, we are safe, Return in peace to the ocean my love, I too am part of that ocean my love, we are not so much sepa- 
Behold the great rondure, the cohesion of all, how perfect! But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us, As for an hour carrying us diverse, yet cannot carry us diverse for- 
Be not impatient—a little space—know you I salute the air, the  
 ocean and the land,
Every day at sundown for your dear sake my love.


AGES and ages returning at intervals, Undestroy'd, wandering immortal, Lusty, phallic, with the potent original loins, perfectly sweet, I, chanter of Adamic songs, Through the new garden the West, the great cities calling, Deliriate, thus prelude what is generated, offering these, offering  
Bathing myself, bathing my songs in Sex, Offspring of my loins.
  [ begin page 93 ]ppp.00707.101.jpg


WE two, how long we were fool'd, Now transmuted, we swiftly escape as Nature escapes, We are Nature, long have we been absent, but now we return, We become plants, trunks, foliage, roots, bark, We are bedded in the ground, we are rocks, We are oaks, we grow in the openings side by side, We browse, we are two among the wild herds spontaneous as  
We are two fishes swimming in the sea together, We are what locust blossoms are, we drop scent around lanes  
 mornings and evenings,
We are also the coarse smut of beasts, vegetables, minerals, We are two predatory hawks, we soar above and look down, We are two resplendent suns, we it is who balance ourselves orbic  
 and stellar, we are as two comets,
We prowl fang'd and four-footed in the woods, we spring on  
We are two clouds forenoons and afternoons driving overhead, We are seas mingling, we are two of those cheerful waves rolling  
 over each other and interwetting each other,
We are what the atmosphere is, transparent, receptive, pervious, 
We are snow, rain, cold, darkness, we are each product and  
 influence of the globe,
We have circled and circled till we have arrived home again, we  
We have voided all but freedom and all but our own joy.


O HYMEN! O hymenee! why do you tantalize me thus? O why sting me for a swift moment only? Why can you not continue? O why do you now cease? Is it because if you continued beyond the swift moment you  
 would soon certainly kill me?


I AM he that aches with amorous love; Does the earth gravitate? does not all matter, aching, attract all  
So the body of me to all I meet or know.
  [ begin page 94 ]ppp.00707.102.jpg


NATIVE moments—when you come upon me—ah you are here  
Give me now libidinous joys only, Give me the drench of my passions, give me life coarse and rank, To-day I go consort with Nature's darlings, to-night too, I am for those who believe in loose delights, I share the midnight  
 orgies of young men,
I dance with the dancers and drink with the drinkers, The echoes ring with our indecent calls, I pick out some low  
 person for my dearest friend,
He shall be lawless, rude, illiterate, he shall be one condemn'd by  
 others for deeds done,
I will play a part no longer, why should I exile myself from my  
O you shunn'd persons, I at least do not shun you, I come forthwith in your midst, I will be your poet, I will be more to you than to any of the rest.


ONCE I pass'd through a populous city imprinting my brain for  
 future use with its shows, architecture, customs, traditions,
Yet now of all that city I remember only a woman I casually met  
 there who detain'd me for love of me,
Day by day and night by night we were together—all else has  
 long been forgotten by me,
I remember I say only that woman who passionately clung to me, Again we wander, we love, we separate again, Again she holds me by the hand, I must not go, I see her close beside me with silent lips sad and tremulous.


I HEARD you solemn-sweet pipes of the organ as last Sunday morn  
 I pass'd the church,
Winds of autumn, as I walk'd the woods at dusk I heard your  
 long-stretch'd sighs up above so mournful,
I heard the perfect Italian tenor singing at the opera, I heard the  
 soprano in the midst of the quartet singing;
Heart of my love! you too I heard murmuring low through one  
 of the wrists around my head,
Heard the pulse of you when all was still ringing little bells last  
 night under my ear.
  [ begin page 95 ]ppp.00707.103.jpg


FACING west from California's shores, Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound, I, a child, very old, over waves, towards the house of maternity, 
 the land of migrations, look afar,
Look off the shores of my Western sea, the circle almost circled; For starting westward from Hindustan, from the vales of Kash- 
From Asia, from the north, from the God, the sage, and the  
From the south, from the flowery peninsulas and the spice islands, Long having wander'd since, round the earth having wander'd, Now I face home again, very pleas'd and joyous, (But where is what I started for so long ago? And why is it yet unfound?)


AS Adam early in the morning, Walking forth from the bower refresh'd with sleep, Behold me where I pass, hear my voice, approach, Touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body.



IN paths untrodden, In the growth by margins of pond-waters, Escaped from the life that exhibits itself, From all the standards hitherto publish'd, from the pleasures, 
 profits, conformities,
Which too long I was offering to feed my soul, Clear to me now standards not yet publish'd, clear to me that my  
That the soul of the man I speak for rejoices in comrades, Here by myself away from the clank of the world, Tallying and talk'd to here by tongues aromatic,   [ begin page 96 ]ppp.00707.104.jpg No longer abash'd, (for in this secluded spot I can respond as I  
 would not dare elsewhere,)
Strong upon me the life that does not exhibit itself, yet contains  
 all the rest,
Resolv'd to sing no songs to-day but those of manly attachment, Projecting them along that substantial life, Bequeathing hence types of athletic love, Afternoon this delicious Ninth-month in my forty-first year, I proceed for all who are or have been young men, To tell the secret of my nights and days, To celebrate the need of comrades.


SCENTED herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I glean, I write, to be perused best afterwards, Tomb-leaves, body-leaves growing up above me above death, Perennial roots, tall leaves, O the winter shall not freeze you  
 delicate leaves,
Every year shall you bloom again, out from where you retired you  
 shall emerge again;
O I do not know whether many passing by will discover you or  
 inhale your faint odor, but I believe a few will;
O slender leaves! O blossoms of my blood! I permit you to tell  
 in your own way of the heart that is under you,
O I do not know what you mean there underneath yourselves, you  
 are not happiness,
You are often more bitter than I can bear, you burn and sting me, Yet you are beautiful to me you faint tinged roots, you make me  
 think of death,
Death is beautiful from you, (what indeed is finally beautiful except  
 death and love?)
O I think it is not for life I am chanting here my chant of lovers, 
 I think it must be for death,
For how calm, how solemn it grows to ascend to the atmosphere  
 of lovers,
Death or life I am then indifferent, my soul declines to prefer, (I am not sure but the high soul of lovers welcomes death most,) Indeed O death, I think now these leaves mean precisely the same  
 as you mean,
Grow up taller sweet leaves that I may see! grow up out of my  
Spring away from the conceal'd heart there! Do not fold yourself so in your pink-tinged roots timid leaves!   [ begin page 97 ]ppp.00707.105.jpg Do not remain down there so ashamed, herbage of my breast! Come I am determin'd to unbare this broad breast of mine, I  
 have long enough stifled and choked;
Emblematic and capricious blades I leave you, now you serve me  
I will say what I have to say by itself, I will sound myself and comrades only, I will never again utter a  
 call only their call,
I will raise with it immortal reverberations through the States, I will give an example to lovers to take permanent shape and  
 will through the States,
Through me shall the words be said to make death exhilarating, Give me your tone therefore O death, that I may accord with it, Give me yourself, for I see that you belong to me now above all, 
 and are folded inseparably together, you love and death are,
Nor will I allow you to balk me any more with what I was calling life, For now it is convey'd to me that you are the purports essential, That you hide in these shifting forms of life, for reasons, and that  
 they are mainly for you,
That you beyond them come forth to remain, the real reality, That behind the mask of materials you patiently wait, no matter  
 how long,
That you will one day perhaps take control of all, That you will perhaps dissipate this entire show of appearance, That may-be you are what it is all for, but it does not last so very  
But you will last very long.


WHOEVER you are holding me now in hand, Without one thing all will be useless, I give you fair warning before you attempt me further, I am not what you supposed, but far different. Who is he that would become my follower? Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections? The way is suspicious, the result uncertain, perhaps destructive, You would have to give up all else, I alone would expect to be  
 your sole and exclusive standard,
Your novitiate would even then be long and exhausting, The whole past theory of your life and all conformity to the lives  
 around you would have to be abandon'd,
  [ begin page 98 ]ppp.00707.106.jpg Therefore release me now before troubling yourself any further, let  
 go your hand from my shoulders,
Put me down and depart on your way.
Or else by stealth in some wood for trial, Or back of a rock in the open air, (For in any roof'd room of a house I emerge not, nor in com- 
And in libraries I lie as one dumb, a gawk, or unborn, or dead,) But just possibly with you on a high hill, first watching lest any  
 person for miles around approach unawares,
Or possibly with you sailing at sea, or on the beach of the sea or  
 some quiet island,
Here to put your lips upon mine I permit you, With the comrade's long-dwelling kiss or the new husband's kiss, For I am the new husband and I am the comrade.
Or if you will, thrusting me beneath your clothing, Where I may feel the throbs of your heart or rest upon your  
Carry me when you go forth over land or sea; For thus merely touching you is enough, is best, And thus touching you would I silently sleep and be carried  
But these leaves conning you con at peril, For these leaves and me you will not understand, They will elude you at first and still more afterward, I will  
 certainly elude you,
Even while you should think you had unquestionably caught me,  
Already you see I have escaped from you.
For it is not for what I have put into it that I have written this  
Nor is it by reading it you will acquire it, Nor do those know me best who admire me and vauntingly praise  
Nor will the candidates for my love (unless at most a very few) 
 prove victorious,
Nor will my poems do good only, they will do just as much evil, 
 perhaps more,
For all is useless without that which you may guess at many times  
 and not hit, that which I hinted at;
Therefore release me and depart on your way.
  [ begin page 99 ]ppp.00707.107.jpg


COME, I will make the continent indissoluble, I will make the most splendid race the sun ever shone upon, I will make divine magnetic lands, 
 With the love of comrades, 
 With the life-long love of comrades.
I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers of  
 America, and along the shores of the great lakes, and all  
 over the prairies,
I will make inseparable cities with their arms about each other's  
 By the love of comrades, 
 By the manly love of comrades.
For you these from me, O Democracy, to serve you ma femme! For you, for you I am trilling these songs.


THESE I singing in spring collect for lovers, (For who but I should understand lovers and all their sorrow and  
And who but I should be the poet of comrades?) Collecting I traverse the garden the world, but soon I pass the  
Now along the pond-side, now wading in a little, fearing not the  
Now by the post-and-rail fences where the old stones thrown there, 
 pick'd from the fields, have accumulated,
(Wild-flowers and vines and weeds come up through the stones  
 and partly cover them, beyond these I pass,)
Far, far in the forest, or sauntering later in summer, before I think  
 where I go,
Solitary, smelling the earthy smell, stopping now and then in the  
Alone I had thought, yet soon a troop gathers around me, Some walk by my side and some behind, and some embrace my  
 arms or neck,
They the spirits of dear friends dead or alive, thicker they come, 
 a great crowd, and I in the middle,
Collecting, dispensing, singing, there I wander with them, Plucking something for tokens, tossing toward whoever is near me, Here, lilac, with a branch of pine,   [ begin page 100 ]ppp.00707.108.jpg Here, out of my pocket, some moss which I pull'd off a live-oak  
 in Florida as it hung trailing down,
Here, some pinks and laurel leaves, and a handful of sage, And here what I now draw from the water, wading in the pond- 
(O here I last saw him that tenderly loves me, and returns again  
 never to separate from me,
And this, O this shall henceforth be the token of comrades, this  
 calamus-root shall,
Interchange it youths with each other! let none render it back!) And twigs of maple and a bunch of wild orange and chestnut, And stems of currants and plum-blows, and the aromatic cedar, These I compass'd around by a thick cloud of spirits, Wandering, point to or touch as I pass, or throw them loosely  
 from me,
Indicating to each one what he shall have, giving something to  
But what I drew from the water by the pond-side, that I reserve, I will give of it, but only to them that love as I myself am capable  
 of loving.


NOT heaving from my ribb'd breast only, Not in sighs at night in rage dissatisfied with myself, Not in those long-drawn, ill-supprest sighs, Not in many an oath and promise broken, Not in my wilful and savage soul's volition, Not in the subtle nourishment of the air, Not in this beating and pounding at my temples and wrists, Not in the curious systole and diastole within which will one day  
Not in many a hungry wish told to the skies only, Not in cries, laughter, defiances, thrown from me when alone far  
 in the wilds,
Not in husky pantings through clinch'd teeth, Not in sounded and resounded words, chattering words, echoes, 
 dead words,
Not in the murmurs of my dreams while I sleep, Nor the other murmurs of these incredible dreams of every day, Nor in the limbs and senses of my body that take you and dismiss  
 you continually—not there,
Not in any or all of them O adhesiveness! O pulse of my life! Need I that you exist and show yourself any more than in these  
  [ begin page 101 ]ppp.00707.109.jpg


OF the terrible doubt of appearances, Of the uncertainty after all, that we may be deluded, That may-be reliance and hope are but speculations after all, That may-be identity beyond the grave is a beautiful fable only, May-be the things I perceive, the animals, plants, men, hills, 
 shining and flowing waters,
The skies of day and night, colors, densities, forms, may-be these  
 are (as doubtless they are) only apparitions, and the real  
 something has yet to be known,
(How often they dart out of themselves as if to confound me and  
 mock me!
How often I think neither I know, nor any man knows, aught of  
May-be seeming to me what they are (as doubtless they indeed  
 but seem) as from my present point of view, and might  
 prove (as of course they would) nought of what they  
 appear, or nought anyhow, from entirely changed points  
 of view;
To me these and the like of these are curiously answer'd by my  
 lovers, my dear friends,
When he whom I love travels with me or sits a long while holding  
 me by the hand,
When the subtle air, the impalpable, the sense that words and  
 reason hold not, surround us and pervade us,
Then I am charged with untold and untellable wisdom, I am  
 silent, I require nothing further,
I cannot answer the question of appearances or that of identity  
 beyond the grave,
But I walk or sit indifferent, I am satisfied, He ahold of my hand has completely satisfied me.


AND now gentlemen, A word I give to remain in your memories and minds, As base and finalè too for all metaphysics. (So to the students the old professor, At the close of his crowded course.) Having studied the new and antique, the Greek and Germanic  
Kant having studied and stated, Fichte and Schelling and Hegel,   [ begin page 102 ]ppp.00707.110.jpg Stated the lore of Plato, and Socrates greater than Plato, And greater than Socrates sought and stated, Christ divine having  
 studied long,
I see reminiscent to-day those Greek and Germanic systems, See the philosophies all, Christian churches and tenets see, Yet underneath Socrates clearly see, and underneath Christ the  
 divine I see,
The dear love of man for his comrade, the attraction of friend to  
Of the well-married husband and wife, of children and parents, Of city for city and land for land.


RECORDERS ages hence, Come, I will take you down underneath this impassive exterior, I  
 will tell you what to say of me,
Publish my name and hang up my picture as that of the tenderest  
The friend the lover's portrait, of whom his friend his lover was  
Who was not proud of his songs, but of the measureless ocean of  
 love within him, and freely pour'd it forth,
Who often walk'd lonesome walks thinking of his dear friends, his  
Who pensive away from one he lov'd often lay sleepless and dissat- 
 isfied at night,
Who knew too well the sick, sick dread lest the one he lov'd  
 might secretly be indifferent to him,
Whose happiest days were far away through fields, in woods, on  
 hills, he and another wandering hand in hand, they twain  
 apart from other men,
Who oft as he saunter'd the streets curv'd with his arm the shoul- 
 der of his friend, while the arm of his friend rested upon  
 him also.


WHEN I heard at the close of the day how my name had been  
 receiv'd with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a happy  
 night for me that follow'd,
And else when I carous'd, or when my plans were accomplish'd, 
 still I was not happy,
  [ begin page 103 ]ppp.00707.111.jpg But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health, 
 refresh'd, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn,
When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in  
 the morning light,
When I wander'd alone over the beach, and undressing bathed, 
 laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise,
And when I thought how my dear friend my lover was on his way  
 coming, O then I was happy,
O then each breath tasted sweeter, and all that day my food  
 nourish'd me more, and the beautiful day pass'd well,
And the next came with equal joy, and with the next at evening  
 came my friend,
And that night while all was still I heard the waters roll slowly  
 continually up the shores,
I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands as directed to  
 me whispering to congratulate me,
For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover  
 in the cool night,
In the stillness in the autumn moonbeams his face was inclined  
 toward me,
And his arm lay lightly around my breast—and that night I was  


ARE you the new person drawn toward me? To begin with take warning, I am surely far different from what  
 you suppose;
Do you suppose you will find in me your ideal? Do you think it so easy to have me become your lover? Do you think the friendship of me would be unalloy'd satisfaction? Do you think I am trusty and faithful? Do you see no further than this façade, this smooth and tolerant  
 manner of me?
Do you suppose yourself advancing on real ground toward a real  
 heroic man?
Have you no thought O dreamer that it may be all maya, illusion?


ROOTS and leaves themselves alone are these, Scents brought to men and women from the wild woods and  
  [ begin page 104 ]ppp.00707.112.jpg Breast-sorrel and pinks of love, fingers that wind around tighter  
 than vines,
Gushes from the throats of birds hid in the foliage of trees as the  
 sun is risen,
Breezes of land and love set from living shores to you on the living  
 sea, to you O sailors!
Frost-mellow'd berries and Third-month twigs offer'd fresh to  
 young persons wandering out in the fields when the winter  
 breaks up,
Love-buds put before you and within you whoever you are, Buds to be unfolded on the old terms, If you bring the warmth of the sun to them they will open and  
 bring form, color, perfume, to you,
If you become the aliment and the wet they will become flowers, 
 fruits, tall branches and trees.


NOT heat flames up and consumes, Not sea-waves hurry in and out, Not the air delicious and dry, the air of ripe summer, bears lightly  
 along white down-balls of myriads of seeds,
Wafted, sailing gracefully, to drop where they may; Not these, O none of these more than the flames of me, consum- 
 ing, burning for his love whom I love,
O none more than I hurrying in and out; Does the tide hurry, seeking something, and never give up? O I  
 the same,
O nor down-balls nor perfumes, nor the high rain-emitting clouds, 
 are borne through the open air,
Any more than my soul is borne through the open air, Wafted in all directions O love, for friendship, for you.


TRICKLE drops! my blue veins leaving! O drops of me! trickle, slow drops, Candid from me falling, drip, bleeding drops, From wounds made to free you whence you were prison'd, From my face, from my forehead and lips, From my breast, from within where I was conceal'd, press forth  
 red drops, confession drops,
Stain every page, stain every song I sing, every word I say, bloody  
  [ begin page 105 ]ppp.00707.113.jpg Let them know your scarlet heat, let them glisten, Saturate them with yourself all ashamed and wet, Glow upon all I have written or shall write, bleeding drops, Let it all be seen in your light, blushing drops.


CITY of orgies, walks and joys, City whom that I have lived and sung in your midst will one day  
 make you illustrious,
Not the pageants of you, not your shifting tableaus, your specta- 
 cles, repay me,
Not the interminable rows of your houses, nor the ships at the  
Nor the processions in the streets, nor the bright windows with  
 goods in them,
Nor to converse with learn'd persons, or bear my share in the soiree  
 or feast;
Not those, but as I pass O Manhattan, your frequent and swift  
 flash of eyes offering me love,
Offering response to my own—these repay me, Lovers, continual lovers, only repay me.


BEHOLD this swarthy face, these gray eyes, This beard, the white wool unclipt upon my neck, My brown hands and the silent manner of me without charm; Yet comes one a Manhattanese and ever at parting kisses me  
 lightly on the lips with robust love,
And I on the crossing of the street or on the ship's deck give a  
 kiss in return,
We observe that salute of American comrades land and sea, We are those two natural and nonchalant persons.


I SAW in Louisiana a live-oak growing, All alone stood it and the moss hung down from the branches, Without any companion it grew there uttering joyous leaves of  
 dark green,
And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think of myself, But I wonder'd how it could utter joyous leaves standing alone  
 there without its friend near, for I knew I could not,
  [ begin page 106 ]ppp.00707.114.jpg And I broke off a twig with a certain number of leaves upon it, 
 and twined around it a little moss,
And brought it away, and I have placed it in sight in my room, It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear friends, (For I believe lately I think of little else than of them,) Yet it remains to me a curious token, it makes me think of manly  
For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there in Louisiana  
 solitary in a wide flat space,
Uttering joyous leaves all its life without a friend a lover near, I know very well I could not.


PASSING stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon  
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to  
 me as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you, All is recall'd as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, 
You grew up with me, were a boy with me or a girl with me, I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours  
 only nor left my body mine only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass, you  
 take of my beard, breast, hands, in return,
I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone  
 or wake at night alone,
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again, I am to see to it that I do not lose you.


THIS moment yearning and thoughtful sitting alone, It seems to me there are other men in other lands yearning and  
It seems to me I can look over and behold them in Germany, 
 Italy, France, Spain,
Or far, far away, in China, or in Russia or Japan, talking other  
And it seems to me if I could know those men I should become  
 attached to them as I do to men in my own lands,
O I know we should be brethren and lovers, I know I should be happy with them.
  [ begin page 107 ]ppp.00707.115.jpg


I HEAR it was charged against me that I sought to destroy institu- 
But really I am neither for nor against institutions, (What indeed have I in common with them? or what with the  
 destruction of them?)
Only I will establish in the Mannahatta and in every city of these  
 States inland and seaboard,
And in the fields and woods, and above every keel little or large  
 that dents the water,
Without edifices or rules or trustees or any argument, The institution of the dear love of comrades.


THE prairie-grass dividing, its special odor breathing, I demand of it the spiritual corresponding, Demand the most copious and close companionship of men, Demand the blades to rise of words, acts, beings, Those of the open atmosphere, coarse, sunlit, fresh, nutritious, Those that go their own gait, erect, stepping with freedom and  
 command, leading not following,
Those with a never-quell'd audacity, those with sweet and lusty  
 flesh clear of taint,
Those that look carelessly in the faces of Presidents and governors, 
 as to say Who are you?
Those of earth-born passion, simple, never constrain'd, never  
Those of inland America.


WHEN I peruse the conquer'd fame of heroes and the victories  
 of mighty generals, I do not envy the generals,
Nor the President in his Presidency, nor the rich in his great  
But when I hear of the brotherhood of lovers, how it was with  
How together through life, through dangers, odium, unchanging,  
 long and long,
Through youth and through middle and old age, how unfaltering,  
 how affectionate and faithful they were,
Then I am pensive—I hastily walk away fill'd with the bitterest  
  [ begin page 108 ]ppp.00707.116.jpg


WE two boys together clinging, One the other never leaving, Up and down the roads going, North and South excursions  
Power enjoying, elbows stretching, fingers clutching, Arm'd and fearless, eating, drinking, sleeping, loving, No law less than ourselves owning, sailing, soldiering, thieving, 
Misers, menials, priests alarming, air breathing, water drinking, on  
 the turf or the sea-beach dancing,
Cities wrenching, ease scorning, statutes mocking, feebleness chas- 
Fulfilling our foray.


A PROMISE to California, Or inland to the great pastoral Plains, and on to Puget sound and  
Sojourning east a while longer, soon I travel toward you, to remain, 
 to teach robust American love,
For I know very well that I and robust love belong among you, 
 inland, and along the Western sea;
For these States tend inland and toward the Western sea, and I  
 will also.


HERE the frailest leaves of me and yet my strongest lasting, Here I shade and hide my thoughts, I myself do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my other poems.


NO labor-saving machine, Nor discovery have I made, Nor will I be able to leave behind me any wealthy bequest to  
 found a hospital or library,
Nor reminiscence of any deed of courage for America, Nor literary success nor intellect, nor book for the book-shelf, But a few carols vibrating through the air I leave, For comrades and lovers.
  [ begin page 109 ]ppp.00707.117.jpg


A GLIMPSE through an interstice caught, Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room around the  
 stove late of a winter night, and I unremark'd seated in a  
Of a youth who loves me and whom I love, silently approaching  
 and seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand,
A long while amid the noises of coming and going, of drinking  
 and oath and smutty jest,
There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little, 
 perhaps not a word.


A LEAF for hand in hand; You natural persons old and young! You on the Mississippi and on all the branches and bayous of the  
You friendly boatmen and mechanics! you roughs! You twain! and all processions moving along the streets! I wish to infuse myself among you till I see it common for you to  
 walk hand in hand.


EARTH, my likeness, Though you look so impassive, ample and spheric there, I now suspect that is not all; I now suspect there is something fierce in you eligible to burst forth, For an athlete is enamour'd of me, and I of him, But toward him there is something fierce and terrible in me eligi- 
 ble to burst forth,
I dare not tell it in words, not even in these songs.


I DREAM'D in a dream I saw a city invincible to the attacks of the  
 whole of the rest of the earth,
I dream'd that was the new city of Friends, Nothing was greater there than the quality of robust love, it led  
 the rest,
It was seen every hour in the actions of the men of that city, And in all their looks and words.
  [ begin page 110 ]ppp.00707.118.jpg


WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record? The battle-ship, perfect-model'd, majestic, that I saw pass the  
 offing to-day under full sail?
The splendors of the past day? or the splendor of the night that  
 envelops me?
Or the vaunted glory and growth of the great city spread around  
But merely of two simple men I saw to-day on the pier in the  
 midst of the crowd, parting the parting of dear friends,
The one to remain hung on the other's neck and passionately  
 kiss'd him,
While the one to depart tightly prest the one to remain in his  


TO the East and to the West, To the man of the Seaside State and of Pennsylvania, To the Kanadian of the north, to the Southerner I love, These with perfect trust to depict you as myself, the germs are in  
 all men,
I believe the main purport of these States is to found a superb  
 friendship, exaltè, previously unknown,
Because I perceive it waits, and has been always waiting, latent in  
 all men.


SOMETIMES with one I love I fill myself with rage for fear I effuse  
 unreturn'd love,
But now I think there is no unreturn'd love, the pay is certain one  
 way or another,
(I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not return'd, Yet out of that I have written these songs.)


MANY things to absorb I teach to help you become eleve of mine; Yet if blood like mine circle not in your veins, If you be not silently selected by lovers and do not silently select  
Of what use is it that you seek to become eleve of mine?
  [ begin page 111 ]ppp.00707.119.jpg


FAST-ANCHOR'D eternal O love! O woman I love! O bride! O wife! more resistless than I can tell, the thought of  
Then separate, as disembodied or another born, Ethereal, the last athletic reality, my consolation, I ascend, I float in the regions of your love O man, O sharer of my roving life.


AMONG the men and women the multitude, I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs, Acknowledging none else, not parent, wife, husband, brother, 
 child, any nearer than I am,
Some are baffled, but that one is not—that one knows me.
Ah lover and perfect equal, I meant that you should discover me so by faint indirections, And I when I meet you mean to discover you by the like in you.


O YOU whom I often and silently come where you are that I may  
 be with you,
As I walk by your side or sit near, or remain in the same room  
 with you,
Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is play- 
 ing within me.


THAT shadow my likeness that goes to and fro seeking a liveli- 
 hood, chattering, chaffering,
How often I find myself standing and looking at it where it  
How often I question and doubt whether that is really me; But among my lovers and caroling these songs, O I never doubt whether that is really me.


FULL of life now, compact, visible, I, forty years old the eighty-third year of the States,   [ begin page 112 ]ppp.00707.120.jpg To one a century hence or any number of centuries hence, To you yet unborn these, seeking you. When you read these I that was visible am become invisible, Now it is you, compact, visible, realizing my poems, seeking me, Fancying how happy you were if I could be with you and become  
 your comrade;
Be it as if I were with you. (Be not too certain but I am now  
 with you.)



O TAKE my hand Walt Whitman! Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds! Such join'd unended links, each hook'd to the next, Each answering all, each sharing the earth with all. What widens within you Walt Whitman? What waves and soils exuding? What climes? what persons and cities are here? Who are the infants, some playing, some slumbering? Who are the girls? who are the married women? Who are the groups of old men going slowly with their arms about  
 each other's necks?
What rivers are these? what forests and fruits are these? What are the mountains call'd that rise so high in the mists? What myriads of dwellings are they fill'd with dwellers?


Within me latitude widens, longitude lengthens, Asia, Africa, Europe, are to the east—America is provided for in  
 the west,
Banding the bulge of the earth winds the hot equator, Curiously north and south turn the axis-ends, Within me is the longest day, the sun wheels in slanting rings, it  
 does not set for months,
Stretch'd in due time within me the midnight sun just rises above  
 the horizon and sinks again,
Within me zones, seas, cataracts, forests, volcanoes, groups, Malaysia, Polynesia, and the great West Indian islands.
  [ begin page 113 ]ppp.00707.121.jpg


What do you hear Walt Whitman? I hear the workman singing and the farmer's wife singing, I hear in the distance the sounds of children and of animals early  
 in the day,
I hear emulous shouts of Australians pursuing the wild horse, I hear the Spanish dance with castanets in the chestnut shade, to  
 the rebeck and guitar,
I hear continual echoes from the Thames, I hear fierce French liberty songs, I hear of the Italian boat-sculler the musical recitative of old  
I hear the locusts in Syria as they strike the grain and grass with  
 the showers of their terrible clouds,
I hear the Coptic refrain toward sundown, pensively falling on the  
 breast of the black venerable vast mother the Nile,
I hear the chirp of the Mexican muleteer, and the bells of the  
I hear the Arab muezzin calling from the top of the mosque, I hear the Christian priests at the altars of their churches, I hear  
 the responsive base and soprano,
I hear the cry of the Cossack, and the sailor's voice putting to sea  
 at Okotsk,
I hear the wheeze of the slave-coffle as the slaves march on, as  
 the husky gangs pass on by twos and threes, fasten'd together  
 with wrist-chains and ankle-chains,
I hear the Hebrew reading his records and psalms, I hear the rhythmic myths of the Greeks, and the strong legends  
 of the Romans,
I hear the tale of the divine life and bloody death of the beautiful  
 God the Christ,
I hear the Hindoo teaching his favorite pupil the loves, wars, 
 adages, transmitted safely to this day from poets who wrote  
 three thousand years ago.


What do you see Walt Whitman? Who are they you salute, and that one after another salute you? I see a great round wonder rolling through space, I see diminute farms, hamlets, ruins, graveyards, jails, factories, 
 palaces, hovels, huts of barbarians, tents of nomads upon  
 the surface,
  [ begin page 114 ]ppp.00707.122.jpg I see the shaded part on one side where the sleepers are sleeping, 
 and the sunlit part on the other side,
I see the curious rapid change of the light and shade, I see distant lands, as real and near to the inhabitants of them as  
 my land is to me.
I see plenteous waters, I see mountain peaks, I see the sierras of Andes where they range, I see plainly the Himalayas, Chian Shahs, Altays, Ghauts, I see the giant pinnacles of Elbruz, Kazbek, Bazardjusi, I see the Styrian Alps, and the Karnac Alps, I see the Pyrenees, Balks, Carpathians, and to the north the  
 Dofrafields, and off at sea mount Hecla,
I see Vesuvius and Etna, the mountains of the Moon, and the  
 Red mountains of Madagascar,
I see the Lybian, Arabian, and Asiatic deserts, I see huge dreadful Arctic and Antarctic icebergs, I see the superior oceans and the inferior ones, the Atlantic and  
 Pacific, the sea of Mexico, the Brazilian sea, and the sea  
 of Peru,
The waters of Hindustan, the China sea, and the gulf of Guinea, The Japan waters, the beautiful bay of Nagasaki land-lock'd in its  
The spread of the Baltic, Caspian, Bothnia, the British shores, and  
 the bay of Biscay,
The clear-sunn'd Mediterranean, and from one to another of its  
The White sea, and the sea around Greenland.
I behold the mariners of the world, Some are in storms, some in the night with the watch on the look- 
Some drifting helplessly, some with contagious diseases.
I behold the sail and steamships of the world, some in clusters in  
 port, some on their voyages,
Some double the cape of Storms, some cape Verde, others capes  
 Guardafui, Bon, or Bajadore,
Others Dondra head, others pass the straits of Sunda, others cape  
 Lopatka, others Behring's straits,
Others cape Horn, others sail the gulf of Mexico or along Cuba  
 or Hayti, others Hudson's bay or Baffin's bay,
Others pass the straits of Dover, others enter the Wash, others the  
 firth of Solway, others round cape Clear, others the Land's  
  [ begin page 115 ]ppp.00707.123.jpg Others traverse the Zuyder Zee or the Scheld, Others as comers and goers at Gibraltar or the Dardanelles, Others sternly push their way through the northern winter-packs, Others descend or ascend the Obi or the Lena, Others the Niger or the Congo, others the Indus, the Burampooter  
 and Cambodia,
Others wait steam'd up ready to start in the ports of Australia, Wait at Liverpool, Glasgow, Dublin, Marseilles, Lisbon, Naples, 
 Hamburg, Bremen, Bordeaux, the Hague, Copenhagen,
Wait at Valparaiso, Rio Janeiro, Panama.


I see the tracks of the railroads of the earth, I see them in Great Britain, I see them in Europe, I see them in Asia and in Africa. I see the electric telegraphs of the earth, I see the filaments of the news of the wars, deaths, losses, gains, 
 passions, of my race.
I see the long river-stripes of the earth, I see the Amazon and the Paraguay, I see the four great rivers of China, the Amour, the Yellow River, 
 the Yiang-tse, and the Pearl,
I see where the Seine flows, and where the Danube, the Loire, the  
 Rhone, and the Guadalquiver flow,
I see the windings of the Volga, the Dnieper, the Oder, I see the Tuscan going down the Arno, and the Venetian along  
 the Po,
I see the Greek seaman sailing out of Egina bay.


I see the site of the old empire of Assyria, and that of Persia, and  
 that of India,
I see the falling of the Ganges over the high rim of Saukara.
I see the place of the idea of the Deity incarnated by avatars in  
 human forms,
I see the spots of the successions of priests on the earth, oracles, 
 sacrificers, brahmins, sabians, llamas, monks, muftis, ex- 
I see where druids walk'd the groves of Mona, I see the mistletoe  
 and vervain,
I see the temples of the deaths of the bodies of Gods, I see the  
 old signifiers.
  [ begin page 116 ]ppp.00707.124.jpg I see Christ eating the bread of his last supper in the midst of  
 youths and old persons,
I see where the strong divine young man the Hercules toil'd faith- 
 fully and long and then died,
I see the place of the innocent rich life and hapless fate of the  
 beautiful nocturnal son, the full-limb'd Bacchus,
I see Kneph, blooming, drest in blue, with the crown of feathers  
 on his head,
I see Hermes, unsuspected, dying, well-belov'd, saying to the  
 people Do not weep for me,
This is not my true country, I have lived banish'd from my true  
  country, I now go back there,
I return to the celestial sphere where every one goes in his turn.


I see the battle-fields of the earth, grass grows upon them and  
 blossoms and corn,
I see the tracks of ancient and modern expeditions.
I see the nameless masonries, venerable messages of the unknown  
 events, heroes, records of the earth.
I see the places of the sagas, I see pine-trees and fir-trees torn by northern blasts, I see granite bowlders and cliffs, I see green meadows and lakes, I see the burial-cairns of Scandinavian warriors, I see them raised high with stones by the marge of restless oceans, 
 that the dead men's spirits when they wearied of their quiet  
 graves might rise up through the mounds and gaze on the  
 tossing billows, and be refresh'd by storms, immensity, 
 liberty, action.
I see the steppes of Asia, I see the tumuli of Mongolia, I see the tents of Kalmucks and  
I see the nomadic tribes with herds of oxen and cows, I see the table-lands notch'd with ravines, I see the jungles and  
I see the camel, the wild steed, the bustard, the fat-tail'd sheep, 
 the antelope, and the burrowing wolf.
I see the highlands of Abyssinia, I see flocks of goats feeding, and see the fig-tree, tamarind, date, And see fields of teff-wheat and places of verdure and gold.   [ begin page 117 ]ppp.00707.125.jpg I see the Brazilian vaquero, I see the Bolivian ascending mount Sorata, I see the Wacho crossing the plains, I see the incomparable rider  
 of horses with his lasso on his arm,
I see over the pampas the pursuit of wild cattle for their hides.


I see the regions of snow and ice, I see the sharp- eyed Samoiede and the Finn, I see the seal-seeker in his boat poising his lance, I see the Siberian on his slight-built sledge drawn by dogs, I see the porpoise-hunters, I see the whale-crews of the south Pa- 
 cific and the north Atlantic,
I see the cliffs, glaciers, torrents, valleys, of Switzerland—I mark  
 the long winters and the isolation.
I see the cities of the earth and make myself at random a part of  
I am a real Parisian, I am a habitan of Vienna, St. Petersburg, Berlin, Constantinople, I am of Adelaide, Sidney, Melbourne, I am of London, Manchester, Bristol, Edinburgh, Limerick, I am of Madrid, Cadiz, Barcelona, Oporto, Lyons, Brussels, Berne, 
 Frankfort, Stuttgart, Turin, Florence,
I belong in Moscow, Cracow, Warsaw, or northward in Christiania  
 or Stockholm, or in Siberian Irkutsk, or in some street in  
I descend upon all those cities, and rise from them again.


I see vapors exhaling from unexplored countries, I see the savage types, the bow and arrow, the poison'd splint, the  
 fetich, and the obi.
I see African and Asiatic towns, I see Algiers, Tripoli, Derne, Mogadore, Timbuctoo, Monrovia, I see the swarms of Pekin, Canton, Benares, Delhi, Calcutta, Tokio, I see the Kruman in his hut, and the Dahoman and Ashantee-man  
 in their huts,
I see the Turk smoking opium in Aleppo, I see the picturesque crowds at the fairs of Khiva and those of  
I see Teheran, I see Muscat and Medina and the intervening sands, 
 I see the caravans toiling onward,
  [ begin page 118 ]ppp.00707.126.jpg I see Egypt and the Egyptians, I see the pyramids and obelisks, I look on chisell'd histories, records of conquering kings, dynasties, 
 cut in slabs of sand-stone, or on granite-blocks,
I see at Memphis mummy-pits containing mummies embalm'd, 
 swathed in linen cloth, lying there many centuries,
I look on the fall'n Theban, the large-ball'd eyes, the side-drooping  
 neck, the hands folded across the breast.
I see all the menials of the earth, laboring, I see all the prisoners in the prisons, I see the defective human bodies of the earth, The blind, the deaf and dumb, idiots, hunchbacks, lunatics, The pirates, thieves, betrayers, murderers, slave-makers of the earth, The helpless infants, and the helpless old men and women. I see male and female everywhere, I see the serene brotherhood of philosophs, I see the constructiveness of my race, I see the results of the perseverance and industry of my race, I see ranks, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, I go among them, I  
 mix indiscriminately,
And I salute all the inhabitants of the earth.


You whoever you are! You daughter or son of England! You of the mighty Slavic tribes and empires! you Russ in Russia! You dim-descended, black, divine-soul'd African, large, fine- 
 headed, nobly-form'd, superbly destin'd, on equal terms  
 with me!
You Norwegian! Swede! Dane! Icelander! you Prussian! You Spaniard of Spain! you Portuguese! You Frenchwoman and Frenchman of France! You Belge! you liberty-lover of the Netherlands! (you stock  
 whence I myself have descended;)
You sturdy Austrian! you Lombard! Hun! Bohemian! farmer of  
You neighbor of the Danube! You working-man of the Rhine, the Elbe, or the Weser! you  
 working-woman too!
You Sardinian! you Bavarian! Swabian! Saxon! Wallachian! 
You Roman! Neapolitan! you Greek! You lithe matador in the arena at Seville! You mountaineer living lawlessly on the Taurus or Caucasus!   [ begin page 119 ]ppp.00707.127.jpg You Bokh horse-herd watching your mares and stallions feeding! You beautiful-bodied Persian at full speed in the saddle shooting  
 arrows to the mark!
You Chinaman and Chinawoman of China! You Tartar of Tartary! You women of the earth subordinated at your tasks! You Jew journeying in your old age through every risk to stand  
 once on Syrian ground!
You other Jews waiting in all lands for your Messiah! You thoughtful Armenian pondering by some stream of the Eu- 
 phrates! you peering amid the ruins of Nineveh! you  
 ascending mount Ararat!
You foot-worn pilgrim welcoming the far-away sparkle of the  
 minarets of Mecca!
You sheiks along the stretch from Suez to Bab-el-mandeb ruling  
 your families and tribes!
You olive-grower tending your fruit on fields of Nazareth, Damas- 
 cus, or lake Tiberias!
You Thibet trader on the wide inland or bargaining in the shops  
 of Lassa!
You Japanese man or woman! you liver in Madagascar, Ceylon, 
 Sumatra, Borneo!
All you continentals of Asia, Africa, Europe, Australia, indifferent  
 of place!
All you on the numberless islands of the archipelagoes of the sea! And you of centuries hence when you listen to me! And you each and everywhere whom I specify not, but include  
 just the same!
Health to you! good will to you all, from me and America sent!
Each of us inevitable, Each of us limitless—each of us with his or her right upon the  
Each of us allow'd the eternal purports of the earth, Each of us here as divinely as any is here.


You Hottentot with clicking palate! you woolly-hair'd hordes! You own'd persons dropping sweat-drops or blood-drops! You human forms with the fathomless ever-impressive counte- 
 nances of brutes!
You poor koboo whom the meanest of the rest look down upon  
 for all your glimmering language and spirituality!
You dwarf'd Kamtschatkan, Greenlander, Lapp! You Austral negro, naked, red, sooty, with protrusive lip, groveling, 
 seeking your food!
  [ begin page 120 ]ppp.00707.128.jpg You Caffre, Berber, Soudanese! You haggard, uncouth, untutor'd Bedowee! You plague-swarms in Madras, Nankin, Kaubul, Cairo! You benighted roamer of Amazonia! you Patagonian! you Feejee- 
I do not prefer others so very much before you either, I do not say one word against you, away back there where you  
(You will come forward in due time to my side.)


My spirit has pass'd in compassion and determination around the  
 whole earth,
I have look'd for equals and lovers and found them ready for me  
 in all lands,
I think some divine rapport has equalized me with them.
You vapors, I think I have risen with you, moved away to distant  
 continents, and fallen down there, for reasons,
I think I have blown with you you winds; You waters I have finger'd every shore with you, I have run through what any river or strait of the globe has run  
I have taken my stand on the bases of peninsulas and on the high  
 embedded rocks, to cry thence:
Salut au monde! What cities the light or warmth penetrates I penetrate those cities  
All islands to which birds wing their way I wing my way myself.
Toward you all, in America's name, I raise high the perpendicular hand, I make the signal, To remain after me in sight forever, For all the haunts and homes of men.



AFOOT and light-hearted I take to the open road, Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.   [ begin page 121 ]ppp.00707.129.jpg Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune, Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms, Strong and content I travel the open road. The earth, that is sufficient, I do not want the constellations any nearer, I know they are very well where they are, I know they suffice for those who belong to them. (Still here I carry my old delicious burdens, I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go, I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them, I am fill'd with them, and I will fill them in return.)


You road I enter upon and look around, I believe you are not all  
 that is here,
I believe that much unseen is also here.
Here the profound lesson of reception, nor preference nor denial, The black with his woolly head, the felon, the diseas'd, the illiterate  
 person, are not denied;
The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar's tramp, the  
 drunkard's stagger, the laughing party of mechanics,
The escaped youth, the rich person's carriage, the fop, the eloping  
The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of furniture into the  
 town, the return back from the town,
They pass, I also pass, any thing passes, none can be interdicted, None but are accepted, none but shall be dear to me.


You air that serves me with breath to speak! You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them  
You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers! You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides! I believe you are latent with unseen existences, you are so dear  
 to me.
You flagg'd walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges! You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined  
 sides! you distant ships!
  [ begin page 122 ]ppp.00707.130.jpg You rows of houses! you window-pierc'd façades! you roofs! You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards! You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much! You doors and ascending steps! you arches! You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings! From all that has touch'd you I believe you have imparted to  
 yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me,
From the living and the dead you have peopled your impassive  
 surfaces, and the spirits thereof would be evident and  
 amicable with me.


The earth expanding right hand and left hand, The picture alive, every part in its best light, The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is  
 not wanted,
The cheerful voice of the public road, the gay fresh sentiment of  
 the road.
O highway I travel, do you say to me Do not leave me? Do you say Venture not—if you leave me you are lost? Do you say I am already prepared, I am well-beaten and un- 
 denied, adhere to me?
O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love  
You express me better than I can express myself, You shall be more to me than my poem.
I think heroic deeds were all conceiv'd in the open air, and all  
 free poems also,
I think I could stop here myself and do miracles, I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and who- 
 ever beholds me shall like me,
I think whoever I see must be happy.


From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary  
Going where I list, my own master total and absolute, Listening to others, considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds  
 that would hold me.
  [ begin page 123 ]ppp.00707.131.jpg I inhale great draughts of space, The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are  
I am larger, better than I thought, I did not know I held so much goodness. All seems beautiful to me, I can repeat over to men and women You have done such good  
 to me I would do the same to you,
I will recruit for myself and you as I go, I will scatter myself among men and women as I go, I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them, Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me, Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me.


Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear it would not amaze  
Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear'd it would  
 not astonish me.
Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons, It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth. Here a great personal deed has room, (Such a deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men, Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law and mocks all  
 authority and all argument against it.)
Here is the test of wisdom, Wisdom is not finally tested in schools, Wisdom cannot be pass'd from one having it to another not  
 having it,
Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof, Applies to all stages and objects and qualities and is content, Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the  
 excellence of things;
Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes  
 it out of the soul.
Now I re-examine philosophies and religions, They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under  
 the spacious clouds and along the landscape and flowing  
  [ begin page 124 ]ppp.00707.132.jpg Here is realization, Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he has in him, The past, the future, majesty, love—if they are vacant of you, 
 you are vacant of them.
Only the kernel of every object nourishes; Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me? Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me? Here is adhesiveness, it is not previously fashion'd, it is apropos; Do you know what it is as you pass to be loved by strangers? Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls?


Here is the efflux of the soul, The efflux of the soul comes from within through embower'd  
 gates, ever provoking questions,
These yearnings why are they? these thoughts in the darkness  
 why are they?
Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the  
 sunlight expands my blood?
Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank? Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious  
 thoughts descend upon me?
(I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees and  
 always drop fruit as I pass;)
What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers? What with some driver as I ride on the seat by his side? What with some fisherman drawing his seine by the shore as I  
 walk by and pause?
What gives me to be free to a woman's and man's good-will? 
 what gives them to be free to mine?


The efflux of the soul is happiness, here is happiness, I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times, Now it flows unto us, we are rightly charged. Here rises the fluid and attaching character, The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness  
 of man and woman,
(The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every  
 day out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh  
 and sweet continually out of itself.)
  [ begin page 125 ]ppp.00707.133.jpg Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the  
 love of young and old,
From it falls distill'd the charm that mocks beauty and attainments, Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact.


Allons! whoever you are come travel with me! Traveling with me you find what never tires. The earth never tires, The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude  
 and incomprehensible at first,
Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop'd, I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words  
 can tell.
Allons! we must not stop here, However sweet these laid-up stores, however convenient this dwell- 
 ing we cannot remain here,
However shelter'd this port and however calm these waters we  
 must not anchor here,
However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us we are per- 
 mitted to receive it but a little while.


Allons! the inducements shall be greater, We will sail pathless and wild seas, We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the Yankee clipper  
 speeds by under full sail.
Allons! with power, liberty, the earth, the elements, Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity; Allons! from all formules! From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic priests. The stale cadaver blocks up the passage—the burial waits no  
Allons! yet take warning! He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews, endurance, None may come to the trial till he or she bring courage and health, Come not here if you have already spent the best of yourself, Only those may come who come in sweet and determin'd bodies, No diseas'd person, no rum-drinker or venereal taint is permitted  
  [ begin page 126 ]ppp.00707.134.jpg (I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes, We convince by our presence.)


Listen! I will be honest with you, I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes, These are the days that must happen to you: You shall not heap up what is call'd riches, You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve, You but arrive at the city to which you were destin'd, you hardly  
 settle yourself to satisfaction before you are call'd by an  
 irresistible call to depart,
You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those  
 who remain behind you,
What beckonings of love you receive you shall only answer with  
 passionate kisses of parting,
You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach'd  
 hands toward you.


Allons! after the great Companions, and to belong to them! They too are on the road—they are the swift and majestic men— 
 they are the greatest women,
Enjoyers of calms of seas and storms of seas, Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land, Habituès of many distant countries, habituès of far-distant dwellings, Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers, Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore, Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of  
 children, bearers of children,
Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers-down of  
Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years, the curious  
 years each emerging from that which preceded it,
Journeyers as with companions, namely their own diverse phases, Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days, Journeyers gayly with their own youth, journeyers with their  
 bearded and well-grain'd manhood,
Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass'd, content, Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or woman- 
Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the  
Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.
  [ begin page 127 ]ppp.00707.135.jpg


Allons! to that which is endless as it was beginningless, To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights, To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days and nights  
 they tend to,
Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys, To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it, To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it  
 and pass it,
To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you, 
 however long but it stretches and waits for you,
To see no being, not God's or any, but you also go thither, To see no possession, but you may possess it, enjoying all without  
 labor or purchase, abstracting the feast yet not abstracting  
 one particle of it,
To take the best of the farmer's farm and the rich man's elegant  
 villa, and the chaste blessings of the well-married couple, 
 and the fruits of orchards and flowers of gardens,
To take to your use out of the compact cities as you pass through, To carry buildings and streets with you afterward wherever you go, To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you encounter  
 them, to gather the love out of their hearts,
To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave  
 them behind you,
To know the universe itself as a road, as many roads, as roads for  
 traveling souls.
All parts away for the progress of souls, All religion, all solid things, arts, governments—all that was or is  
 apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and  
 corners before the procession of souls along the grand roads  
 of the universe.
Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand  
 roads of the universe, all other progress is the needed  
 emblem and sustenance.
Forever alive, forever forward, Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble, 
Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men, They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where  
 they go,
But I know that they go toward the best—toward something  
  [ begin page 128 ]ppp.00707.136.jpg Whoever you are, come forth! or man or woman come forth! You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, 
 though you built it, or though it has been built for you.
Out of the dark confinement! out from behind the screen! It is useless to protest, I know all and expose it. Behold through you as bad as the rest, Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people, Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash'd and  
 trimm'd faces,
Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.
No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession, Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes, Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and  
 bland in the parlors,
In the cars of railroads, in steamboats, in the public assembly, Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bed- 
 room, everywhere,
Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under  
 the breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones,
Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial  
Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself, Speaking of any thing else but never of itself.


Allons! through struggles and wars! The goal that was named cannot be countermanded. Have the past struggles succeeded? What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? Nature? Now understand me well—it is provided in the essence of things  
 that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall  
 come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary.
My call is the call of battle, I nourish active rebellion, He going with me must go well arm'd, He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry  
 enemies, desertions.


Allons! the road is before us! It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well—be  
 not detain'd!
  [ begin page 129 ]ppp.00707.137.jpg Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the  
 shelf unopen'd!
Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain  
Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher! Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the  
 court, and the judge expound the law.
Camerado, I give you my hand! I give you my love more precious than money, I give you myself before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me? Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?



FLOOD-TIDE below me! I see you face to face! Clouds of the west—sun there half an hour high—I see you  
 also face to face.
Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes, how  
 curious you are to me!
On the ferry-boats the hundreds and hundreds that cross, return- 
 ing home, are more curious to me than you suppose,
And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are  
 more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might  


The impalpable sustenance of me from all things at all hours of  
 the day,
The simple, compact, well-join'd scheme, myself disintegrated, 
 every one disintegrated yet part of the scheme,
The similitudes of the past and those of the future, The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings, 
 on the walk in the street and the passage over the river,
The current rushing so swiftly and swimming with me far away, The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them, The certainty of others, the life, love, sight, hearing of others.
Others will enter the gates of the ferry and cross from shore to  
  [ begin page 130 ]ppp.00707.138.jpg Others will watch the run of the flood-tide, Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and  
 the heights of Brooklyn to the south and east,
Others will see the islands large and small; Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half  
 an hour high,
A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, 
 others will see them,
Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring-in of the flood-tide, the falling- 
 back to the sea of the ebb-tide.


It avails not, time nor place—distance avails not, I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so  
 many generations hence,
Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt, Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd, Just as you are refresh'd by the gladness of the river and the  
 bright flow, I was refresh'd,
Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift  
 current, I stood yet was hurried,
Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships and the thick- 
 stemm'd pipes of steamboats, I look'd.
I too many and many a time cross'd the river of old, Watched the Twelfth-month sea-gulls, saw them high in the air  
 floating with motionless wings, oscillating their bodies,
Saw how the glistening yellow lit up parts of their bodies and left  
 the rest in strong shadow,
Saw the slow-wheeling circles and the gradual edging toward the  
Saw the reflection of the summer sky in the water, Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams, Look'd at the fine centrifugal spokes of light round the shape of  
 my head in the sunlit water,
Look'd on the haze on the hills southward and south-westward, Look'd on the vapor as it flew in fleeces tinged with violet, Look'd toward the lower bay to notice the vessels arriving, Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me, Saw the white sails of schooners and sloops, saw the ships at anchor, The sailors at work in the rigging or out astride the spars, The round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls, the slender  
 serpentine pennants,
The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in their pilot- 
  [ begin page 131 ]ppp.00707.139.jpg The white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous whirl of  
 the wheels,
The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sunset, The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled cups, the  
 frolicsome crests and glistening,
The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the gray walls of  
 the granite storehouses by the docks,
On the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug closely flank'd  
 on each side by the barges, the hay-boat, the belated  
On the neighboring shore the fires from the foundry chimneys  
 burning high and glaringly into the night,
Casting their flicker of black contrasted with wild red and yellow  
 light over the tops of houses, and down into the clefts of  


These and all else were to me the same as they are to you, I loved well those cities, loved well the stately and rapid river, The men and women I saw were all near to me, Others the same—others who look back on me because I look'd  
 forward to them,
(The time will come, though I stop here to-day and to-night.)


What is it then between us? What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us? Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and place avails  
I too lived, Brooklyn of ample hills was mine, I too walk'd the streets of Manhattan island, and bathed in the  
 waters around it,
I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me, In the day among crowds of people sometimes they came upon me, In my walks home late at night or as I lay in my bed they came  
 upon me,
I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution, I too had receiv'd identity by my body, That I was I knew was of my body, and what I should be I knew  
 I should be of my body.


It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall, The dark threw its patches down upon me also,   [ begin page 132 ]ppp.00707.140.jpg The best I had done seem'd to me blank and suspicious, My great thoughts as I supposed them, were they not in reality  
Nor is it you alone who know what it is to be evil, I am he who knew what it was to be evil, I too knitted the old knot of contrariety, Blabb'd, blush'd, resented, lied, stole, grudg'd, Had guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak, Was wayward, vain, greedy, shallow, sly, cowardly, malignant, The wolf, the snake, the hog, not wanting in me, The cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous wish, not  
Refusals, hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, none of these  
Was one with the rest, the days and haps of the rest, Was call'd by my nighest name by clear loud voices of young men  
 as they saw me approaching or passing,
Felt their arms on my neck as I stood, or the negligent leaning of  
 their flesh against me as I sat,
Saw many I loved in the street or ferry-boat or public assembly, 
 yet never told them a word,
Lived the same life with the rest, the same old laughing, gnawing, 
Play'd the part that still looks back on the actor or actress, The same old role, the role that is what we make it, as great as we  
Or as small as we like, or both great and small.


Closer yet I approach you, What thought you have of me now, I had as much of you—I laid  
 in my stores in advance,
I consider'd long and seriously of you before you were born.
Who was to know what should come home to me? Who knows but I am enjoying this? Who knows, for all the distance, but I am as good as looking at  
 you now, for all you cannot see me?


Ah, what can ever be more stately and admirable to me than mast- 
 hemm'd Manhattan?
River and sunset and scallop-edg'd waves of flood-tide? The sea-gulls oscillating their bodies, the hay-boat in the twilight, 
 and the belated lighter?
  [ begin page 133 ]ppp.00707.141.jpg What gods can exceed these that clasp me by the hand, and with  
 voices I love call me promptly and loudly by my nighest  
 name as I approach?
What is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man  
 that looks in my face?
Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you?
We understand then do we not? What I promis'd without mentioning it, have you not accepted? What the study could not teach—what the preaching could not  
 accomplish is accomplish'd, is it not?


Flow on, river! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb- 
Frolic on, crested and scallop-edg'd waves! Gorgeous clouds of the sunset! drench with your splendor me, or  
 the men and women generations after me!
Cross from shore to shore, countless crowds of passengers! Stand up, tall masts of Mannahatta! stand up, beautiful hills of  
Throb, baffled and curious brain! throw out questions and answers! Suspend here and everywhere, eternal float of solution! Gaze, loving and thirsting eyes, in the house or street or public  
Sound out, voices of young men! loudly and musically call me by  
 my nighest name!
Live, old life! play the part that looks back on the actor or actress! Play the old role, the role that is great or small according as one  
 makes it!
Consider, you who peruse me, whether I may not in unknown  
 ways be looking upon you;
Be firm, rail over the river, to support those who lean idly, yet  
 haste with the hasting current;
Fly on, sea-birds! fly sideways, or wheel in large circles high in  
 the air;
Receive the summer sky, you water, and faithfully hold it till all  
 downcast eyes have time to take it from you!
Diverge, fine spokes of light, from the shape of my head, or any  
 one's head, in the sunlit water!
Come on, ships from the lower bay! pass up or down, white-sail'd  
 schooners, sloops, lighters!
Flaunt away, flags of all nations! be duly lower'd at sunset! Burn high your fires, foundry chimneys! cast black shadows at  
 nightfall! cast red and yellow light over the tops of the  
  [ begin page 134 ]ppp.00707.142.jpg Appearances, now or henceforth, indicate what you are, You necessary film, continue to envelop the soul, About my body for me, and your body for you, be hung our  
 divinest aromas,
Thrive, cities—bring your freight, bring your shows, ample and  
 sufficient rivers,
Expand, being than which none else is perhaps more spiritual, Keep your places, objects than which none else is more lasting.
You have waited, you always wait, you dumb, beautiful ministers, We receive you with free sense at last, and are insatiate hence- 
Not you any more shall be able to foil us, or withhold yourselves  
 from us,
We use you, and do not cast you aside—we plant you perma- 
 nently within us,
We fathom you not—we love you—there is perfection in you also, You furnish your parts toward eternity, Great or small, you furnish your parts toward the soul.



NOW list to my morning's romanza, I tell the signs of the Answerer, To the cities and farms I sing as they spread in the sunshine  
 before me.
A young man comes to me bearing a message from his brother, How shall the young man know the whether and when of his  
Tell him to send me the signs.
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,
And I answer for his brother and for men, and I answer for him  
 that answers for all, and send these signs.
Him all wait for, him all yield up to, his word is decisive and final, Him they accept, in him lave, in him perceive themselves as amid  
Him they immerse and he immerses them.
  [ begin page 135 ]ppp.00707.143.jpg Beautiful women, the haughtiest nations, laws, the landscape, 
 people, animals,
The profound earth and its attributes and the unquiet ocean, (so  
 tell I my morning's romanza,)
All enjoyments and properties and money, and whatever money  
 will buy,
The best farms, others toiling and planting and he unavoidably  
The noblest and costliest cities, others grading and building and  
 he domiciles there,
Nothing for any one but what is for him, near and far are for him, 
 the ships in the offing,
The perpetual shows and marches on land are for him if they are  
 for anybody.
He puts things in their attitudes, He puts to-day out of himself with plasticity and love, He places his own times, reminiscences, parents, brothers and  
 sisters, associations, employment, politics, so that the rest  
 never shame them afterward, nor assume to command  
He is the Answerer, What can be answer'd he answers, and what cannot be answer'd  
 he shows how it cannot be answer'd.
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?)
Books, friendships, philosophers, priests, action, pleasure, pride, 
 beat up and down seeking to give satisfaction,
He indicates the satisfaction, and indicates them that beat up and  
 down also.
Whichever the sex, whatever the season or place, he may go freshly  
 and gently and safely by day or by night,
He has the pass-key of hearts, to him the response of the prying  
 of hands on the knobs.
His welcome is universal, the flow of beauty is not more welcome  
 or universal than he is,
The person he favors by day or sleeps with at night is blessed.
Every existence has its idiom, every thing has an idiom and tongue,   [ begin page 136 ]ppp.00707.144.jpg He resolves all tongues into his own and bestows it upon men, and  
 any man translates, and any man translates himself also,
One part does not counteract another part, he is the joiner, he  
 sees how they join.
He says indifferently and alike How are you friend? to the  
 President at his levee,
And he says Good-day my brother, to Cudge that hoes in the  
And both understand him and know that his speech is right.
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.
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,
And the authors take him for an author, and the artists for an  
And the laborers perceive he could labor with them and love them, No matter what the work is, that he is the one to follow it or has  
 follow'd it,
No matter what the nation, that he might find his brothers and  
 sisters there.
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.
Whoever he looks at in the traveler's coffee-house claims him, The Italian or Frenchman is sure, the German is sure, the Spaniard  
 is sure, and the island Cuban is sure,
The engineer, the deck-hand on the great lakes, or on the Missis- 
 sippi or St. Lawrence or Sacramento, or Hudson or Pau- 
 manok sound, claims him.
The gentleman of perfect blood acknowledges his perfect blood, The insulter, the prostitute, the angry person, the beggar, see  
 themselves in the ways of him, he strangely transmutes them,
They are not vile any more, they hardly know themselves they are  
 so grown.


The indications and tally of time, Perfect sanity shows the master among philosophs,   [ begin page 137 ]ppp.00707.145.jpg Time, always without break, indicates itself in parts, What always indicates the poet is the crowd of the pleasant com- 
 pany of singers, and their words,
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,
The maker of poems settles justice, reality, immortality, His insight and power encircle things and the human race, He is the glory and extract thus far of things and of the human  
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,
(Not every century nor every five centuries has contain'd such a  
 day, for all its names.)
The singers of successive hours of centuries may have ostensible  
 names, but the name of each of them is one of the singers,
The name of each is, eye-singer, ear-singer, head-singer, sweet- 
 singer, night-singer, parlor-singer, love-singer, weird-singer, 
 or something else.
All this time and at all times wait the words of true poems, The words of true poems do not merely please, The true poets are not followers of beauty but the august masters  
 of beauty;
The greatness of sons is the exuding of the greatness of mothers  
 and fathers,
The words of true poems are the tuft and final applause of science.
Divine instinct, breadth of vision, the law of reason, health, rudeness  
 of body, withdrawnness,
Gayety, sun-tan, air-sweetness, such are some of the words of poems.
The sailor and traveler underlie the makers of poems, the Answerer, The builder, geometer, chemist, anatomist, phrenologist, artist, all  
 these underlie the maker of poems, the Answerer.
The words of the true poems give you more than poems, They give you to form for yourself poems, religions, politics, war, 
 peace, behavior, histories, essays, daily life, and every thing  
They balance ranks, colors, races, creeds, and the sexes,   [ begin page 138 ]ppp.00707.146.jpg They do not seek beauty, they are sought, Forever touching them or close upon them follows beauty, longing, 
 fain, love-sick.
They prepare for death, yet are they not the finish, but rather the  
They bring none to his or her terminus or to be content and full, Whom they take they take into space to behold the birth of stars, 
 to learn one of the meanings,
To launch off with absolute faith, to sweep through the ceaseless  
 rings and never be quiet again.


ALWAYS our old feuillage! Always Florida's green peninsula—always the priceless delta of  
 Louisiana—always the cotton-fields of Alabama and Texas,
Always California's golden hills and hollows, and the silver moun- 
 tains of New Mexico—always soft-breath'd Cuba,
Always the vast slope drain'd by the Southern sea, inseparable with  
 the slopes drain'd by the Eastern and Western seas,
The area the eighty-third year of these States, the three and a half  
 millions of square miles,
The eighteen thousand miles of sea-coast and bay-coast on the  
 main, the thirty thousand miles of river navigation,
The seven millions of distinct families and the same number of  
 dwellings—always these, and more, branching forth into  
 numberless branches,
Always the free range and diversity—always the continent of  
Always the prairies, pastures, forests, vast cities, travelers, Kanada,  
 the snows;
Always these compact lands tied at the hips with the belt stringing  
 the huge oval lakes;
Always the West with strong native persons, the increasing density  
 there, the habitans, friendly, threatening, ironical, scorning  
All sights, South, North, East—all deeds, promiscuously done at  
 all times,
All characters, movements, growths, a few noticed, myriads unno- 
Through Mannahatta's streets I walking, these things gathering,   [ begin page 139 ]ppp.00707.147.jpg On interior rivers by night in the glare of pine knots, steamboats  
 wooding up,
Sunlight by day on the valley of the Susquehanna, and on the  
 valleys of the Potomac and Rappahannock, and the valleys  
 of the Roanoke and Delaware,
In their northerly wilds beasts of prey haunting the Adirondacks  
 the hills, or lapping the Saginaw waters to drink,
In a lonesome inlet a sheldrake lost from the flock, sitting on the  
 water rocking silently,
In farmers' barns oxen in the stable, their harvest labor done, they  
 rest standing, they are too tired,
Afar on arctic ice the she-walrus lying drowsily while her cubs play  
The hawk sailing where men have not yet sail'd, the farthest polar  
 sea, ripply, crystalline, open, beyond the floes,
White drift spooning ahead where the ship in the tempest dashes, On solid land what is done in cities as the bells strike midnight  
In primitive woods the sounds there also sounding, the howl of the  
 wolf, the scream of the panther, and the hoarse bellow of  
 the elk,
In winter beneath the hard blue ice of Moosehead lake, in summer  
 visible through the clear waters, the great trout swimming,
In lower latitudes in warmer air in the Carolinas the large black  
 buzzard floating slowly high beyond the tree tops,
Below, the red cedar festoon'd with tylandria, the pines and  
 cypresses growing out of the white sand that spreads far  
 and flat,
Rude boats descending the big Pedee, climbing plants, parasites  
 with color'd flowers and berries enveloping huge trees,
The waving drapery on the live-oak trailing long and low, noise- 
 lessly waved by the wind,
The camp of Georgia wagoners just after dark, the supper-fires  
 and the cooking and eating by whites and negroes,
Thirty or forty great wagons, the mules, cattle, horses, feeding  
 from troughs,
The shadows, gleams, up under the leaves of the old sycamore- 
 trees, the flames with the black smoke from the pitch-pine  
 curling and rising;
Southern fishermen fishing, the sounds and inlets of North Caro- 
 lina's coast, the shad-fishery and the herring-fishery, the  
 large sweep-seines, the windlasses on shore work'd by  
 horses, the clearing, curing, and packing-houses;
Deep in the forest in piney woods turpentine dropping from the  
 incisions in the trees, there are the turpentine works,
  [ begin page 140 ]ppp.00707.148.jpg There are the negroes at work in good health, the ground in all  
 directions is cover'd with pine straw;
In Tennessee and Kentucky slaves busy in the coalings, at the  
 forge, by the furnace-blaze, or at the corn-shucking,
In Virginia, the planter's son returning after a long absence, joy- 
 fully welcom'd and kiss'd by the aged mulatto nurse,
On rivers boatmen safely moor'd at nightfall in their boats under  
 shelter of high banks,
Some of the younger men dance to the sound of the banjo or  
 fiddle, others sit on the gunwale smoking and talking;
Late in the afternoon the mocking-bird, the American mimic,  
 singing in the Great Dismal Swamp,
There are the greenish waters, the resinous odor, the plenteous  
 moss, the cypress-tree, and the juniper-tree;
Northward, young men of Mannahatta, the target company from  
 an excursion returning home at evening, the musket-muz- 
 zles all bear bunches of flowers presented by women;
Children at play, or on his father's lap a young boy fallen asleep,  
 (how his lips move! how he smiles in his sleep!)
The scout riding on horseback over the plains west of the Missis- 
 sippi, he ascends a knoll and sweeps his eyes around;
California life, the miner, bearded, dress'd in his rude costume,  
 the stanch California friendship, the sweet air, the graves  
 one in passing meets solitary just aside the horse-path;
Down in Texas the cotton-field, the negro-cabins, drivers driving  
 mules or oxen before rude carts, cotton bales piled on  
 banks and wharves;
Encircling all, vast-darting up and wide, the American Soul, with  
 equal hemispheres, one Love, one Dilation or Pride;
In arriere the peace-talk with the Iroquois the aborigines, the  
 calumet, the pipe of good-will, arbitration, and indorse- 
The sachem blowing the smoke first toward the sun and then  
 toward the earth,
The drama of the scalp-dance enacted with painted faces and  
 guttural exclamations,
The setting out of the war-party, the long and stealthy march, The single file, the swinging hatchets, the surprise and slaughter  
 of enemies;
All the acts, scenes, ways, persons, attitudes of these States,  
 reminiscences, institutions,
All these States compact, every square mile of these States without  
 excepting a particle;
Me pleas'd, rambling in lanes and country fields, Paumanok's  
  [ begin page 141 ]ppp.00707.149.jpg Observing the spiral flight of two little yellow butterflies shuffling  
 between each other, ascending high in the air,
The darting swallow, the destroyer of insects, the fall traveler  
 southward but returning northward early in the spring,
The country boy at the close of the day driving the herd of cows  
 and shouting to them as they loiter to browse by the road- 
The city wharf, Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Charleston, New  
 Orleans, San Francisco,
The departing ships when the sailors heave at the capstan; Evening—me in my room—the setting sun, The setting summer sun shining in my open window, showing the  
 swarm of flies, suspended, balancing in the air in the centre  
 of the room, darting athwart, up and down, casting swift  
 shadows in specks on the opposite wall where the shine is;
The athletic American matron speaking in public to crowds of  
Males, females, immigrants, combinations, the copiousness, the  
 individuality of the States, each for itself—the money- 
Factories, machinery, the mechanical forces, the windlass, lever,  
 pulley, all certainties,
The certainty of space, increase, freedom, futurity, In space the sporades, the scatter'd islands, the stars—on the  
 firm earth, the lands, my lands,
O lands! all so dear to me—what you are, (whatever it is,) I  
 putting it at random in these songs, become a part of that,  
 whatever it is,
Southward there, I screaming, with wings slow flapping, with the  
 myriads of gulls wintering along the coasts of Florida,
Otherways there atwixt the banks of the Arkansaw, the Rio  
 Grande, the Nueces, the Brazos, the Tombigbee, the Red  
 River, the Saskatchawan or the Osage, I with the spring  
 waters laughing and skipping and running,
Northward, on the sands, on some shallow bay of Paumanok, I  
 with parties of snowy herons wading in the wet to seek  
 worms and aquatic plants,
Retreating, triumphantly twittering, the king-bird, from piercing  
 the crow with its bill, for amusement—and I triumphantly  
The migrating flock of wild geese alighting in autumn to refresh  
 themselves, the body of the flock feed, the sentinels out- 
 side move around with erect heads watching, and are from  
 time to time reliev'd by other sentinels—and I feeding  
 and taking turns with the rest,
  [ begin page 142 ]ppp.00707.150.jpg In Kanadian forests the moose, large as an ox, corner'd by  
 hunters, rising desperately on his hind-feet, and plunging  
 with his fore-feet, the hoofs as sharp as knives—and I,  
 plunging at the hunters, corner'd and desperate,
In the Mannahatta, streets, piers, shipping, store-houses, and the  
 countless workmen working in the shops,
And I too of the Mannahatta, singing thereof—and no less in  
 myself than the whole of the Mannahatta in itself,
Singing the song of These, my ever-united lands—my body no  
 more inevitably united, part to part, and made out of a  
 thousand diverse contributions one identity, any more than  
 my lands are inevitably united and made ONE IDENTITY;
Nativities, climates, the grass of the great pastoral Plains, Cities, labors, death, animals, products, war, good and evil— 
 these me,
These affording, in all their particulars, the old feuillage to me  
 and to America, how can I do less than pass the clew of  
 the union of them, to afford the like to you?
Whoever you are! how can I but offer you divine leaves, that you  
 also be eligible as I am?
How can I but as here chanting, invite you for yourself to collect  
 bouquets of the incomparable feuillage of these States?


O TO make the most jubilant song! Full of music—full of manhood, womanhood, infancy! Full of common employments—full of grain and trees. O for the voices of animals—O for the swiftness and balance of  
O for the dropping of raindrops in a song! O for the sunshine and motion of waves in a song!
O the joy of my spirit—it is uncaged—it darts like lightning! It is not enough to have this globe or a certain time, I will have thousands of globes and all time. O the engineer's joys! to go with a locomotive! To hear the hiss of steam, the merry shriek, the steam-whistle, the  
 laughing locomotive!
To push with resistless way and speed off in the distance.
  [ begin page 143 ]ppp.00707.151.jpg O the gleesome saunter over fields and hillsides! The leaves and flowers of the commonest weeds, the moist fresh  
 stillness of the woods,
The exquisite smell of the earth at daybreak, and all through the  
O the horseman's and horsewoman's joys! The saddle, the gallop, the pressure upon the seat, the cool gurgling  
 by the ears and hair.
O the fireman's joys! I hear the alarm at dead of night, I hear bells, shouts! I pass the crowd, I run! The sight of the flames maddens me with pleasure. O the joy of the strong-brawn'd fighter, towering in the arena in  
 perfect condition, conscious of power, thirsting to meet his  
O the joy of that vast elemental sympathy which only the human  
 soul is capable of generating and emitting in steady and  
 limitless floods.
O the mother's joys! The watching, the endurance, the precious love, the anguish, the  
 patiently yielded life.
O the joy of increase, growth, recuperation, The joy of soothing and pacifying, the joy of concord and harmony. O to go back to the place where I was born, To hear the birds sing once more, To ramble about the house and barn and over the fields once more, And through the orchard and along the old lanes once more. O to have been brought up on bays, lagoons, creeks, or along the  
To continue and be employ'd there all my life, The briny and damp smell, the shore, the salt weeds exposed at  
 low water,
The work of fishermen, the work of the eel-fisher and clam-fisher; I come with my clam-rake and spade, I come with my eel-spear, Is the tide out? I join the group of clam-diggers on the flats, I laugh and work with them, I joke at my work like a mettlesome  
 young man;
  [ begin page 144 ]ppp.00707.152.jpg In winter I take my eel-basket and eel-spear and travel out on foot  
 on the ice—I have a small axe to cut holes in the ice,
Behold me well-clothed going gayly or returning in the afternoon,  
 my brood of tough boys accompanying me,
My brood of grown and part-grown boys, who love to be with no  
 one else so well as they love to be with me,
By day to work with me, and by night to sleep with me.
Another time in warm weather out in a boat, to lift the lobster-pots  
 where they are sunk with heavy stones, (I know the  
O the sweetness of the Fifth-month morning upon the water as I  
 row just before sunrise toward the buoys,
I pull the wicker pots up slantingly, the dark green lobsters are  
 desperate with their claws as I take them out, I insert  
 wooden pegs in the joints of their pincers,
I go to all the places one after another, and then row back to the  
There in a huge kettle of boiling water the lobsters shall be boil'd  
 till their color becomes scarlet.
Another time mackerel-taking, Voracious, mad for the hook, near the surface, they seem to fill the  
 water for miles;
Another time fishing for rock-fish in Chesapeake bay, I one of the  
 brown-faced crew;
Another time trailing for blue-fish off Paumanok, I stand with  
 braced body,
My left foot is on the gunwale, my right arm throws far out the  
 coils of slender rope,
In sight around me the quick veering and darting of fifty skiffs,  
 my companions.
O boating on the rivers, The voyage down the St. Lawrence, the superb scenery, the  
The ships sailing, the Thousand Islands, the occasional timber-raft  
 and the raftsmen with long-reaching sweep-oars,
The little huts on the rafts, and the stream of smoke when they  
 cook supper at evening.
(O something pernicious and dread! Something far away from a puny and pious life! Something unproved! something in a trance! Something escaped from the anchorage and driving free.)   [ begin page 145 ]ppp.00707.153.jpg O to work in mines, or forging iron, Foundry casting, the foundry itself, the rude high roof, the ample  
 and shadow'd space,
The furnace, the hot liquid pour'd out and running.
O to resume the joys of the soldier! To feel the presence of a brave commanding officer—to feel his  
To behold his calmness—to be warm'd in the rays of his smile! To go to battle—to hear the bugles play and the drums beat! To hear the crash of artillery—to see the glittering of the bayonets  
 and musket-barrels in the sun!
To see men fall and die and not complain! To taste the savage taste of blood—to be so devilish! To gloat so over the wounds and deaths of the enemy.
O the whaleman's joys! O I cruise my old cruise again! I feel the ship's motion under me, I feel the Atlantic breezes fan- 
 ning me,
I hear the cry again sent down from the mast-head, There—she  
Again I spring up the rigging to look with the rest—we descend,  
 wild with excitement,
I leap in the lower'd boat, we row toward our prey where he lies, We approach stealthy and silent, I see the mountainous mass,  
 lethargic, basking,
I see the harpooneer standing up, I see the weapon dart from his  
 vigorous arm;
O swift again far out in the ocean the wounded whale, settling,  
 running to windward, tows me,
Again I see him rise to breathe, we row close again, I see a lance driven through his side, press'd deep, turn'd in  
 the wound,
Again we back off, I see him settle again, the life is leaving him  
As he rises he spouts blood, I see him swim in circles narrower  
 and narrower, swiftly cutting the water—I see him die,
He gives one convulsive leap in the centre of the circle, and then  
 falls flat and still in the bloody foam.
O the old manhood of me, my noblest joy of all! My children and grand-children, my white hair and beard, My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long stretch of my life. O ripen'd joy of womanhood! O happiness at last!   [ begin page 146 ]ppp.00707.154.jpg I am more than eighty years of age, I am the most venerable  
How clear is my mind—how all people draw nigh to me! What attractions are these beyond any before? what bloom more  
 than the bloom of youth?
What beauty is this that descends upon me and rises out of me?
O the orator's joys! To inflate the chest, to roll the thunder of the voice out from the  
 ribs and throat,
To make the people rage, weep, hate, desire, with yourself, To lead America—to quell America with a great tongue.
O the joy of my soul leaning pois'd on itself, receiving identity  
 through materials and loving them, observing characters  
 and absorbing them,
My soul vibrated back to me from them, from sight, hearing, touch,  
 reason, articulation, comparison, memory, and the like,
The real life of my senses and flesh transcending my senses and flesh, My body done with materials, my sight done with my material eyes, Proved to me this day beyond cavil that it is not my material eyes  
 which finally see,
Nor my material body which finally loves, walks, laughs, shouts,  
 embraces, procreates.
O the farmer's joys! Ohioan's, Illinoisian's, Wisconsinese', Kanadian's, Iowan's, Kan- 
 sian's, Missourian's, Oregonese' joys!
To rise at peep of day and pass forth nimbly to work, To plough land in the fall for winter-sown crops, To plough land in the spring for maize, To train orchards, to graft the trees, to gather apples in the fall.
O to bathe in the swimming-bath, or in a good place along shore, To splash the water! to walk ankle-deep, or race naked along the  
O to realize space! The plenteousness of all, that there are no bounds, To emerge and be of the sky, of the sun and moon and flying  
 clouds, as one with them.
O the joy of a manly self-hood! To be servile to none, to defer to none, not to any tyrant known  
 or unknown,
  [ begin page 147 ]ppp.00707.155.jpg To walk with erect carriage, a step springy and elastic, To look with calm gaze or with a flashing eye, To speak with a full and sonorous voice out of a broad chest, To confront with your personality all the other personalities of the  
Know'st thou the excellent joys of youth? Joys of the dear companions and of the merry word and laughing  
Joy of the glad light-beaming day, joy of the wide-breath'd games? Joy of sweet music, joy of the lighted ball-room and the dancers? Joy of the plenteous dinner, strong carouse and drinking?
Yet O my soul supreme! Know'st thou the joys of pensive thought? Joys of the free and lonesome heart, the tender, gloomy heart? Joys of the solitary walk, the spirit bow'd yet proud, the suffering  
 and the struggle?
The agonistic throes, the ecstasies, joys of the solemn musings day  
 or night?
Joys of the thought of Death, the great spheres Time and Space? Prophetic joys of better, loftier love's ideals, the divine wife, the  
 sweet, eternal, perfect comrade?
Joys all thine own undying one, joys worthy thee O soul.
O while I live to be the ruler of life, not a slave, To meet life as a powerful conqueror, No fumes, no ennui, no more complaints or scornful criticisms, To these proud laws of the air, the water and the ground, proving  
 my interior soul impregnable,
And nothing exterior shall ever take command of me.
For not life's joys alone I sing, repeating—the joy of death! The beautiful touch of Death, soothing and benumbing a few  
 moments, for reasons,
Myself discharging my excrementitious body to be burn'd, or  
 render'd to powder, or buried,
My real body doubtless left to me for other spheres, My voided body nothing more to me, returning to the purifications,  
 further offices, eternal uses of the earth.
O to attract by more than attraction! How it is I know not—yet behold! the something which obeys  
 none of the rest,
It is offensive, never defensive—yet how magnetic it draws.
  [ begin page 148 ]ppp.00707.156.jpg O to struggle against great odds, to meet enemies undaunted! To be entirely alone with them, to find how much one can stand! To look strife, torture, prison, popular odium, face to face! To mount the scaffold, to advance to the muzzles of guns with  
 perfect nonchalance!
To be indeed a God!
O to sail to sea in a ship! To leave this steady unendurable land, To leave the tiresome sameness of the streets, the sidewalks and  
 the houses,
To leave you O you solid motionless land, and entering a ship, To sail and sail and sail!
O to have life henceforth a poem of new joys! To dance, clap hands, exult, shout, skip, leap, roll on, float on! To be a sailor of the world bound for all ports, A ship itself, (see indeed these sails I spread to the sun and air,) A swift and swelling ship full of rich words, full of joys.



WEAPON shapely, naked, wan, Head from the mother's bowels drawn, Wooded flesh and metal bone, limb only one and lip only one, Gray-blue leaf by red-heat grown, helve produced from a little  
 seed sown,
Resting the grass amid and upon, To be lean'd and to lean on.
Strong shapes and attributes of strong shapes, masculine trades, 
 sights and sounds,
Long varied train of an emblem, dabs of music, Fingers of the organist skipping staccato over the keys of the  
 great organ.


Welcome are all earth's lands, each for its kind, Welcome are lands of pine and oak, Welcome are lands of the lemon and fig, Welcome are lands of gold,   [ begin page 149 ]ppp.00707.157.jpg Welcome are lands of wheat and maize, welcome those of the  
Welcome are lands of sugar and rice, Welcome the cotton-lands, welcome those of the white potato  
 and sweet potato,
Welcome are mountains, flats, sands, forests, prairies, Welcome the rich borders of rivers, table-lands, openings, Welcome the measureless grazing-lands, welcome the teeming soil  
 of orchards, flax, honey, hemp;
Welcome just as much the other more hard-faced lands, Lands rich as lands of gold or wheat and fruit lands, Lands of mines, lands of the manly and rugged ores, Lands of coal, copper, lead, tin, zinc, Lands of iron—lands of the make of the axe.


The log at the wood-pile, the axe supported by it, The sylvan hut, the vine over the doorway, the space clear'd for a  
The irregular tapping of rain down on the leaves after the storm  
 is lull'd,
The wailing and moaning at intervals, the thought of the sea, The thought of ships struck in the storm and put on their beam  
 ends, and the cutting away of masts,
The sentiment of the huge timbers of old-fashion'd houses and  
The remember'd print or narrative, the voyage at a venture of  
 men, families, goods,
The disembarkation, the founding of a new city, The voyage of those who sought a New England and found it, the  
 outset anywhere,
The settlements of the Arkansas, Colorado, Ottawa, Willamette, The slow progress, the scant fare, the axe, rifle, saddle-bags; The beauty of all adventurous and daring persons, The beauty of wood-boys and wood-men with their clear un- 
 trimm'd faces,
The beauty of independence, departure, actions that rely on  
The American contempt for statutes and ceremonies, the bound- 
 less impatience of restraint,
The loose drift of character, the inkling through random types, 
 the solidification;
The butcher in the slaughter-house, the hands aboard schooners  
 and sloops, the raftsman, the pioneer,
  [ begin page 150 ]ppp.00707.158.jpg Lumbermen in their winter camp, daybreak in the woods, stripes  
 of snow on the limbs of trees, the occasional snapping,
The glad clear sound of one's own voice, the merry song, the  
 natural life of the woods, the strong day's work,
The blazing fire at night, the sweet taste of supper, the talk, the  
 bed of hemlock-boughs and the bear-skin;
The house-builder at work in cities or anywhere, The preparatory jointing, squaring, sawing, mortising, The hoist-up of beams, the push of them in their places, laying  
 them regular,
Setting the studs by their tenons in the mortises according as they  
 were prepared,
The blows of mallets and hammers, the attitudes of the men, 
 their curv'd limbs,
Bending, standing, astride the beams, driving in pins, holding on  
 by posts and braces,
The hook'd arm over the plate, the other arm wielding the axe, The floor-men forcing the planks close to be nail'd, Their postures bringing their weapons downward on the bearers, The echoes resounding through the vacant building; The huge storehouse carried up in the city well under way, The six framing-men, two in the middle and two at each end, 
 carefully bearing on their shoulders a heavy stick for a  
The crowded line of masons with trowels in their right hands  
 rapidly laying the long side-wall, two hundred feet from  
 front to rear,
The flexible rise and fall of backs, the continual click of the  
 trowels striking the bricks,
The bricks one after another each laid so workmanlike in its  
 place, and set with a knock of the trowel-handle,
The piles of materials, the mortar on the mortar-boards, and the  
 steady replenishing by the hod-men;
Spar-makers in the spar-yard, the swarming row of well-grown  
The swing of their axes on the square-hew'd log shaping it toward  
 the shape of a mast,
The brisk short crackle of the steel driven slantingly into the pine, The butter-color'd chips flying off in great flakes and slivers, The limber motion of brawny young arms and hips in easy cos- 
The constructor of wharves, bridges, piers, bulk-heads, floats, 
 stays against the sea;
The city fireman, the fire that suddenly bursts forth in the close- 
 pack'd square,
  [ begin page 151 ]ppp.00707.159.jpg The arriving engines, the hoarse shouts, the nimble stepping and  
The strong command through the fire-trumpets, the falling in line, 
 the rise and fall of the arms forcing the water,
The slender, spasmic, blue-white jets, the bringing to bear of the  
 hooks and ladders and their execution,
The crash and cut away of connecting wood-work, or through  
 floors if the fire smoulders under them,
The crowd with their lit faces watching, the glare and dense  
The forger at his forge-furnace and the user of iron after him, The maker of the axe large and small, and the welder and tem- 
The chooser breathing his breath on the cold steel and trying the  
 edge with his thumb,
The one who clean-shapes the handle and sets it firmly in the  
The shadowy processions of the portraits of the past users also, The primal patient mechanics, the architects and engineers, The far-off Assyrian edifice and Mizra edifice, The Roman lictors preceding the consuls, The antique European warrior with his axe in combat, The uplifted arm, the clatter of blows on the helmeted head, The death-howl, the limpsy tumbling body, the rush of friend and  
 foe thither,
The siege of revolted lieges determin'd for liberty, The summons to surrender, the battering at castle gates, the truce  
 and parley,
The sack of an old city in its time, The bursting in of mercenaries and bigots tumultuously and  
Roar, flames, blood, drunkenness, madness, Goods freely rifled from houses and temples, screams of women in  
 the gripe of brigands,
Craft and thievery of camp-followers, men running, old persons  
The hell of war, the cruelties of creeds, The list of all executive deeds and words just or unjust, The power of personality just or unjust.


Muscle and pluck forever! What invigorates life invigorates death, And the dead advance as much as the living advance, And the future is no more uncertain than the present,   [ begin page 152 ]ppp.00707.160.jpg For the roughness of the earth and of man encloses as much as  
 the delicatesse of the earth and of man,
And nothing endures but personal qualities.
What do you think endures? Do you think a great city endures? Or a teeming manufacturing state? or a prepared constitution? or  
 the best built steamships?
Or hotels of granite and iron? or any chef-d'oeuvres of engineering, 
 forts, armaments?
Away! these are not to be cherish'd for themselves, They fill their hour, the dancers dance, the musicians play for  
The show passes, all does well enough of course, All does very well till one flash of defiance.
A great city is that which has the greatest men and women, If it be a few ragged huts it is still the greatest city in the whole  


The place where a great city stands is not the place of stretch'd  
 wharves, docks, manufactures, deposits of produce merely,
Nor the place of ceaseless salutes of new-comers or the anchor- 
 lifters of the departing,
Nor the place of the tallest and costliest buildings or shops selling  
 goods from the rest of the earth,
Nor the place of the best libraries and schools, nor the place where  
 money is plentiest,
Nor the place of the most numerous population.
Where the city stands with the brawniest breed of orators and  
Where the city stands that is belov'd by these, and loves them in  
 return and understands them,
Where no monuments exist to heroes but in the common words  
 and deeds,
Where thrift is in its place, and prudence is in its place, Where the men and women think lightly of the laws, Where the slave ceases, and the master of slaves ceases, Where the populace rise at once against the never-ending audacity  
 of elected persons,
Where fierce men and women pour forth as the sea to the whistle  
 of death pours its sweeping and unript waves,
  [ begin page 153 ]ppp.00707.161.jpg Where outside authority enters always after the precedence of  
 inside authority,
Where the citizen is always the head and ideal, and President, 
 Mayor, Governor and what not, are agents for pay,
Where children are taught to be laws to themselves, and to depend  
 on themselves,
Where equanimity is illustrated in affairs, Where speculations on the soul are encouraged, Where women walk in public processions in the streets the same  
 as the men,
Where they enter the public assembly and take places the same as  
 the men;
Where the city of the faithfulest friends stands, Where the city of the cleanliness of the sexes stands, Where the city of the healthiest fathers stands, Where the city of the best-bodied mothers stands, There the great city stands.


How beggarly appear arguments before a defiant deed! How the floridness of the materials of cities shrivels before a man's  
 or woman's look!
All waits or goes by default till a strong being appears; A strong being is the proof of the race and of the ability of the  
When he or she appears materials are overaw'd, The dispute on the soul stops, The old customs and phrases are confronted, turn'd back, or laid  
What is your money-making now? what can it do now? What is your respectability now? What are your theology, tuition, society, traditions, statute-books, 
Where are your jibes of being now? Where are your cavils about the soul now?


A sterile landscape covers the ore, there is as good as the best for  
 all the forbidding appearance,
There is the mine, there are the miners, The forge-furnace is there, the melt is accomplish'd, the hammers- 
 men are at hand with their tongs and hammers,
What always served and always serves is at hand.
  [ begin page 154 ]ppp.00707.162.jpg Than this nothing has better served, it has served all, Served the fluent-tongued and subtle-sensed Greek, and long ere  
 the Greek,
Served in building the buildings that last longer than any, Served the Hebrew, the Persian, the most ancient Hindustanee, Served the mound-raiser on the Mississippi, served those whose  
 relics remain in Central America,
Served Albic temples in woods or on plains, with unhewn pillars  
 and the druids,
Served the artificial clefts, vast, high, silent, on the snow-cover'd  
 hills of Scandinavia,
Served those who time out of mind made on the granite walls  
 rough sketches of the sun, moon, stars, ships, ocean waves,
Served the paths of the irruptions of the Goths, served the pas- 
 toral tribes and nomads,
Served the long distant Kelt, served the hardy pirates of the Baltic, Served before any of those the venerable and harmless men of  
Served the making of helms for the galleys of pleasure and the  
 making of those for war,
Served all great works on land and all great works on the sea, For the mediaeval ages and before the mediaeval ages, Served not the living only then as now, but served the dead.


I see the European headsman, He stands mask'd, clothed in red, with huge legs and strong naked  
And leans on a ponderous axe.
(Whom have you slaughter'd lately European headsman? Whose is that blood upon you so wet and sticky?) I see the clear sunsets of the martyrs, I see from the scaffolds the descending ghosts, Ghosts of dead lords, uncrown'd ladies, impeach'd ministers, 
 rejected kings,
Rivals, traitors, poisoners, disgraced chieftains and the rest.
I see those who in any land have died for the good cause, The seed is spare, nevertheless the crop shall never run out, (Mind you O foreign kings, O priests, the crop shall never run out.) I see the blood wash'd entirely away from the axe, Both blade and helve are clean,   [ begin page 155 ]ppp.00707.163.jpg They spirt no more the blood of European nobles, they clasp no  
 more the necks of queens.
I see the headsman withdraw and become useless, I see the scaffold untrodden and mouldy, I see no longer any axe  
 upon it,
I see the mighty and friendly emblem of the power of my own  
 race, the newest, largest race.


(America! I do not vaunt my love for you, I have what I have.) The axe leaps! The solid forest gives fluid utterances, They tumble forth, they rise and form, Hut, tent, landing, survey, Flail, plough, pick, crowbar, spade, Shingle, rail, prop, wainscot, jamb, lath, panel, gable, Citadel, ceiling, saloon, academy, organ, exhibition-house, li- 
Cornice, trellis, pilaster, balcony, window, turret, porch, Hoe, rake, pitchfork, pencil, wagon, staff, saw, jack-plane, mallet, 
 wedge, rounce,
Chair, tub, hoop, table, wicket, vane, sash, floor, Work-box, chest, string'd instrument, boat, frame, and what not, Capitols of States, and capitol of the nation of States, Long stately rows in avenues, hospitals for orphans or for the poor  
 or sick,
Manhattan steamboats and clippers taking the measure of all seas.
The shapes arise! Shapes of the using of axes anyhow, and the users and all that  
 neighbors them,
Cutters down of wood and haulers of it to the Penobscot or Ken- 
Dwellers in cabins among the Californian mountains or by the little  
 lakes, or on the Columbia,
Dwellers south on the banks of the Gila or Rio Grande, friendly  
 gatherings, the characters and fun,
Dwellers along the St. Lawrence, or north in Kanada, or down by  
 the Yellowstone, dwellers on coasts and off coasts,
Seal-fishers, whalers, arctic seamen breaking passages through the  
  [ begin page 156 ]ppp.00707.164.jpg The shapes arise! Shapes of factories, arsenals, foundries, markets, Shapes of the two-threaded tracks of railroads, Shapes of the sleepers of bridges, vast frameworks, girders, arches, Shapes of the fleets of barges, tows, lake and canal craft, river craft, Ship-yards and dry-docks along the Eastern and Western seas, and  
 in many a bay and by-place,
The live-oak kelsons, the pine planks, the spars, the hackmatack- 
 roots for knees,
The ships themselves on their ways, the tiers of scaffolds, the  
 workmen busy outside and inside,
The tools lying around, the great auger and little auger, the adze, 
 bolt, line, square, gouge, and bead-plane.


The shapes arise! The shape measur'd, saw'd, jack'd, join'd, stain'd, The coffin-shape for the dead to lie within in his shroud, The shape got out in posts, in the bedstead posts, in the posts of  
 the bride's bed,
The shape of the little trough, the shape of the rockers beneath, 
 the shape of the babe's cradle,
The shape of the floor-planks, the floor-planks for dancers' feet, The shape of the planks of the family home, the home of the  
 friendly parents and children,
The shape of the roof of the home of the happy young man and  
 woman, the roof over the well-married young man and  
The roof over the supper joyously cook'd by the chaste wife, and  
 joyously eaten by the chaste husband, content after his  
 day's work.
The shapes arise! The shape of the prisoner's place in the court-room, and of him  
 or her seated in the place,
The shape of the liquor-bar lean'd against by the young rum- 
 drinker and the old rum-drinker,
The shape of the shamed and angry stairs trod by sneaking foot- 
The shape of the sly settee, and the adulterous unwholesome  
The shape of the gambling-board with its devilish winnings and  
The shape of the step-ladder for the convicted and sentenced  
 murderer, the murderer with haggard face and pinion'd arms,
  [ begin page 157 ]ppp.00707.165.jpg The sheriff at hand with his deputies, the silent and white-lipp'd  
 crowd, the dangling of the rope.
The shapes arise! Shapes of doors giving many exits and entrances, The door passing the dissever'd friend flush'd and in haste, The door that admits good news and bad news, The door whence the son left home confident and puff'd up, The door he enter'd again from a long and scandalous absence, 
 diseas'd, broken down, without innocence, without means.


Her shape arises, She less guarded than ever, yet more guarded than ever, The gross and soil'd she moves among do not make her gross and  
She knows the thoughts as she passes, nothing is conceal'd from her, She is none the less considerate or friendly therefor, She is the best belov'd, it is without exception, she has no reason  
 to fear and she does not fear,
Oaths, quarrels, hiccupp'd songs, smutty expressions, are idle to  
 her as she passes,
She is silent, she is possess'd of herself, they do not offend her, She receives them as the laws of Nature receive them, she is strong, She too is a law of Nature—there is no law stronger than she is.


The main shapes arise! Shapes of Democracy total, result of centuries, Shapes ever projecting other shapes, Shapes of turbulent manly cities, Shapes of the friends and home-givers of the whole earth, Shapes bracing the earth and braced with the whole earth.



(AH little recks the laborer, How near his work is holding him to God, The loving Laborer through space and time.) After all not to create only, or found only,   [ begin page 158 ]ppp.00707.166.jpg But to bring perhaps from afar what is already founded, To give it our own identity, average, limitless, free, To fill the gross the torpid bulk with vital religious fire, Not to repel or destroy so much as accept, fuse, rehabilitate, To obey as well as command, to follow more than to lead, These also are the lessons of our New World; While how little the New after all, how much the Old, Old World! Long and long has the grass been growing, Long and long has the rain been falling, Long has the globe been rolling round.


Come Muse migrate from Greece and Ionia, Cross out please those immensely overpaid accounts, That matter of Troy and Achilles' wrath, and Aeneas', Odysseus' 
Placard "Removed" and "To Let" on the rocks of your snowy  
Repeat at Jerusalem, place the notice high on Jaffa's gate and on  
 Mount Moriah,
The same on the walls of your German, French and Spanish  
 castles, and Italian collections,
For know a better, fresher, busier sphere, a wide, untried domain  
 awaits, demands you.


Responsive to our summons, Or rather to her long-nurs'd inclination, Join'd with an irresistible, natural gravitation, She comes! I hear the rustling of her gown, I scent the odor of her breath's delicious fragrance, I mark her step divine, her curious eyes a-turning, rolling, Upon this very scene. The dame of dames! can I believe then, Those ancient temples, sculptures classic, could none of them  
 retain her?
Nor shades of Virgil and Dante, nor myriad memories, poems, 
 old associations, magnetize and hold on to her?
But that she's left them all—and here?
Yes, if you will allow me to say so, I, my friends, if you do not, can plainly see her,   [ begin page 159 ]ppp.00707.167.jpg The same undying soul of earth's, activity's, beauty's, heroism's  
Out from her evolutions hither come, ended the strata of her  
 former themes,
Hidden and cover'd by to-day's, foundation of to-day's, Ended, deceas'd through time, her voice by Castaly's fountain, Silent the broken-lipp'd Sphynx in Egypt, silent all those century- 
 baffling tombs,
Ended for aye the epics of Asia's, Europe's helmeted warriors, 
 ended the primitive call of the muses,
Calliope's call forever closed, Clio, Melpomene, Thalia dead, Ended the stately rhythmus of Una and Oriana, ended the quest  
 of the holy Graal,
Jerusalem a handful of ashes blown by the wind, extinct, The Crusaders' streams of shadowy midnight troops sped with the  
Amadis, Tancred, utterly gone, Charlemagne, Roland, Oliver gone, Palmerin, ogre, departed, vanish'd the turrets that Usk from its  
 waters reflected,
Arthur vanish'd with all his knights, Merlin and Lancelot and  
 Galahad, all gone, dissolv'd utterly like an exhalation;
Pass'd! pass'd! for us, forever pass'd, that once so mighty world, 
 now void, inanimate, phantom world,
Embroider'd, dazzling, foreign world, with all its gorgeous legends, 
Its kings and castles proud, its priests and warlike lords and  
 courtly dames,
Pass'd to its charnel vault, coffin'd with crown and armor on, Blazon'd with Shakspere's purple page, And dirged by Tennyson's sweet sad rhyme.
I say I see, my friends, if you do not, the illustrious emigré, 
 (having it is true in her day, although the same, changed, 
 journey'd considerable,)
Making directly for this rendezvous, vigorously clearing a path for  
 herself, striding through the confusion,
By thud of machinery and shrill steam-whistle undismay'd, Bluff'd not a bit by drain-pipe, gasometers, artificial fertilizers, Smiling and pleas'd with palpable intent to stay, She's here, install'd amid the kitchen ware!


But hold—don't I forget my manners? To introduce the stranger, (what else indeed do I live to chant  
 for?) to thee Columbia;
  [ begin page 160 ]ppp.00707.168.jpg In liberty's name welcome immortal! clasp hands, And ever henceforth sisters dear be both.
Fear not O Muse! truly new ways and days receive, surround you, I candidly confess a queer, queer race, of novel fashion, And yet the same old human race, the same within, without, Faces and hearts the same, feelings the same, yearnings the same, The same old love, beauty and use the same.


We do not blame thee elder World, nor really separate ourselves  
 from thee,
(Would the son separate himself from the father?) Looking back on thee, seeing thee to thy duties, grandeurs, 
 through past ages bending, building,
We build to ours to-day.
Mightier than Egypt's tombs, Fairer than Grecia's, Roma's temples, Prouder than Milan's statued, spired cathedral, More picturesque than Rhenish castle-keeps, We plan even now to raise, beyond them all, Thy great cathedral sacred industry, no tomb, A keep for life for practical invention. As in a waking vision, E'en while I chant I see it rise, I scan and prophesy outside  
 and in,
Its manifold ensemble.
Around a palace, loftier, fairer, ampler than any yet, Earth's modern wonder, history's seven outstripping, High rising tier on tier with glass and iron façades, Gladdening the sun and sky, enhued in cheerfulest hues, Bronze, lilac, robin's-egg, marine and crimson, Over whose golden roof shall flaunt, beneath thy banner Freedom, The banners of the States and flags of every land, A brood of lofty, fair, but lesser palaces shall cluster. Somewhere within their walls shall all that forwards perfect human  
 life be started,
Tried, taught, advanced, visibly exhibited.
Not only all the world of works, trade, products, But all the workmen of the world here to be represented.   [ begin page 161 ]ppp.00707.169.jpg Here shall you trace in flowing operation, In every state of practical, busy movement, the rills of civilization, Materials here under your eye shall change their shape as if by  
The cotton shall be pick'd almost in the very field, Shall be dried, clean'd, ginn'd, baled, spun into thread and cloth  
 before you,
You shall see hands at work at all the old processes and all the  
 new ones,
You shall see the various grains and how flour is made and then  
 bread baked by the bakers,
You shall see the crude ores of California and Nevada passing on  
 and on till they become bullion,
You shall watch how the printer sets type, and learn what a com- 
 posing-stick is,
You shall mark in amazement the Hoe press whirling its cylinders, 
 shedding the printed leaves steady and fast,
The photograph, model, watch, pin, nail, shall be created before  
In large calm halls, a stately museum shall teach you the infinite  
 lessons of minerals,
In another, woods, plants, vegetation shall be illustrated—in  
 another animals, animal life and development.
One stately house shall be the music house, Others for other arts—learning, the sciences, shall all be here, None shall be slighted, none but shall here be honor'd, help'd, 


(This, this and these, America, shall be your pyramids and  
Your Alexandrian Pharos, gardens of Babylon, Your temple at Olympia.)
The male and female many laboring not, Shall ever here confront the laboring many, With precious benefits to both, glory to all, To thee America, and thee eternal Muse. And here shall ye inhabit powerful Matrons! In your vast state vaster than all the old, Echoed through long, long centuries to come, To sound of different, prouder songs, with stronger themes,   [ begin page 162 ]ppp.00707.170.jpg Practical, peaceful life, the people's life, the People themselves, Lifted, illumin'd, bathed in peace—elate, secure in peace.


Away with themes of war! away with war itself! Hence from my shuddering sight to never more return that show  
 of blacken'd, mutilated corpses!
That hell unpent and raid of blood, fit for wild tigers or for lop- 
 tongued wolves, not reasoning men,
And in its stead speed industry's campaigns, With thy undaunted armies, engineering, Thy pennants labor, loosen'd to the breeze, Thy bugles sounding loud and clear.
Away with old romance! Away with novels, plots and plays of foreign courts, Away with love-verses sugar'd in rhyme, the intrigues, amours of  
Fitted for only banquets of the night where dancers to late music  
The unhealthy pleasures, extravagant dissipations of the few, With perfumes, heat and wine, beneath the dazzling chandeliers.
To you ye reverent sane sisters, I raise a voice for far superber themes for poets and for art, To exalt the present and the real, To teach the average man the glory of his daily walk and trade, To sing in songs how exercise and chemical life are never to be  
To manual work for each and all, to plough, hoe, dig, To plant and tend the tree, the berry, vegetables, flowers, For every man to see to it that he really do something, for every  
 woman too;
To use the hammer and the saw, (rip, or cross-cut,) To cultivate a turn for carpentering, plastering, painting, To work as tailor, tailoress, nurse, hostler, porter, To invent a little, something ingenious, to aid the washing, cook- 
 ing, cleaning,
And hold it no disgrace to take a hand at them themselves.
I say I bring thee Muse to-day and here, All occupations, duties broad and close, Toil, healthy toil and sweat, endless, without cessation, The old, old practical burdens, interests, joys,   [ begin page 163 ]ppp.00707.171.jpg The family, parentage, childhood, husband and wife, The house-comforts, the house itself and all its belongings, Food and its preservation, chemistry applied to it, Whatever forms the average, strong, complete, sweet-blooded man  
 or woman, the perfect longeve personality,
And helps its present life to health and happiness, and shapes its soul, For the eternal real life to come.
With latest connections, works, the inter-transportation of the world, Steam-power, the great express lines, gas, petroleum, These triumphs of our time, the Atlantic's delicate cable, The Pacific railroad, the Suez canal, the Mont Cenis and Gothard  
 and Hoosac tunnels, the Brooklyn bridge,
This earth all spann'd with iron rails, with lines of steamships  
 threading every sea,
Our own rondure, the current globe I bring.


And thou America, Thy offspring towering e'er so high, yet higher Thee above all  
With Victory on thy left, and at thy right hand Law; Thou Union holding all, fusing, absorbing, tolerating all, Thee, ever thee, I sing.
Thou, also thou, a World, With all thy wide geographies, manifold, different, distant, Rounded by thee in one—one common orbic language, One common indivisible destiny for All. And by the spells which ye vouchsafe to those your ministers in  
I here personify and call my themes, to make them pass before ye.
Behold, America! (and thou, ineffable guest and sister!) For thee come trooping up thy waters and thy lands; Behold! thy fields and farms, thy far-off woods and mountains, As in procession coming. Behold, the sea itself, And on its limitless, heaving breast, the ships; See, where their white sails, bellying in the wind, speckle the green  
 and blue,
See, the steamers coming and going, steaming in or out of port, See, dusky and undulating, the long pennants of smoke.
  [ begin page 164 ]ppp.00707.172.jpg Behold, in Oregon, far in the north and west, Or in Maine, far in the north and east, thy cheerful axemen, Wielding all day their axes. Behold, on the lakes, thy pilots at their wheels, thy oarsmen, How the ash writhes under those muscular arms! There by the furnace, and there by the anvil, Behold thy sturdy blacksmiths swinging their sledges, Overhand so steady, overhand they turn and fall with joyous clank, Like a tumult of laughter. Mark the spirit of invention everywhere, thy rapid patents, Thy continual workshops, foundries, risen or rising, See, from their chimneys how the tall flame-fires stream. Mark, thy interminable farms, North, South, Thy wealthy daughter-states, Eastern and Western, The varied products of Ohio, Pennsylvania, Missouri, Georgia, 
 Texas, and the rest,
Thy limitless crops, grass, wheat, sugar, oil, corn, rice, hemp, hops, Thy barns all fill'd, the endless freight-train and the bulging  
The grapes that ripen on thy vines, the apples in thy orchards, Thy incalculable lumber, beef, pork, potatoes, thy coal, thy gold  
 and silver,
The inexhaustible iron in thy mines.
All thine O sacred Union! Ships, farms, shops, barns, factories, mines, City and State, North, South, item and aggregate, We dedicate, dread Mother, all to thee! Protectress absolute, thou! bulwark of all! For well we know that while thou givest each and all,(generous  
 as God,)
Without thee neither all nor each, nor land, home, Nor ship, nor mine, nor any here this day secure, Nor aught, nor any day secure.


And thou, the Emblem waving over all! Delicate beauty, a word to thee, (it may be salutary,) Remember thou hast not always been as here to-day so comfortably  
  [ begin page 165 ]ppp.00707.173.jpg In other scenes than these have I observ'd thee flag, Not quite so trim and whole and freshly blooming in folds of stain- 
 less silk,
But I have seen thee bunting, to tatters torn upon thy splinter'd staff, Or clutch'd to some young color-bearer's breast with desperate hands, Savagely struggled for, for life or death, fought over long, 'Mid cannons' thunder-crash and many a curse and groan and yell, 
 and rifle-volleys cracking sharp,
And moving masses as wild demons surging, and lives as nothing  
For thy mere remnant grimed with dirt and smoke and sopp'd in  
For sake of that, my beauty, and that thou might'st dally as now  
 secure up there,
Many a good man have I seen go under.
Now here and these and hence in peace, all thine O Flag! And here and hence for thee, O universal Muse! and thou for them! And here and hence O Union, all the work and workmen thine! None separate from thee—henceforth One only, we and thou, (For the blood of the children, what is it, only the blood  
And lives and works, what are they all at last, except the roads to  
 faith and death?)
While we rehearse our measureless wealth, it is for thee, dear  
We own it all and several to-day indissoluble in thee; Think not our chant, our show, merely for products gross or lucre  
 —it is for thee, the soul in thee, electric, spiritual!
Our farms, inventions, crops, we own in thee! cities and States in  
Our freedom all in thee! our very lives in thee!



A CALIFORNIA song, A prophecy and indirection, a thought impalpable to breathe as air, A chorus of dryads, fading, departing, or hamadryads departing, A murmuring, fateful, giant voice, out of the earth and sky, Voice of a mighty dying tree in the redwood forest dense.   [ begin page 166 ]ppp.00707.174.jpg Farewell my brethren, Farewell O earth and sky, farewell ye neighboring waters, My time has ended, my term has come. Along the northern coast, Just back from the rock-bound shore and the caves, In the saline air from the sea in the Mendocino country, With the surge for base and accompaniment low and hoarse, With crackling blows of axes sounding musically driven by strong  
Riven deep by the sharp tongues of the axes, there in the redwood  
 forest dense,
I heard the mighty tree its death-chant chanting.
The choppers heard not, the camp shanties echoed not, The quick-ear'd teamsters and chain and jack-screw men heard  
As the wood-spirits came from their haunts of a thousand years to  
 join the refrain,
But in my soul I plainly heard.
Murmuring out of its myriad leaves, Down from its lofty top rising two hundred feet high, Out of its stalwart trunk and limbs, out of its foot-thick bark, That chant of the seasons and time, chant not of the past only  
 but the future.
You untold life of me, And all you venerable and innocent joys, Perennial hardy life of me with joys 'mid rain and many a  
  summer sun,
And the white snows and night and the wild winds; O the great patient rugged joys, my soul's strong joys unreck'd by  
(For know I bear the soul befitting me, I too have consciousness,  
And all the rocks and mountains have, and all the earth,) Joys of the life befitting me and brothers mine, Our time, our term has come.
Nor yield we mournfully majestic brothers, We who have grandly fill'd our time; With Nature's calm content, with tacit huge delight, We welcome what we wrought for through the past, And leave the field for them.   [ begin page 167 ]ppp.00707.175.jpg For them predicted long, For a superber race, they too to grandly fill their time, For them we abdicate, in them ourselves ye forest kings! In them these skies and airs, these mountain peaks, Shasta,  
These huge precipitous cliffs, this amplitude, these valleys, far  
To be in them absorb'd, assimilated.
Then to a loftier strain, Still prouder, more ecstatic rose the chant, As if the heirs, the deities of the West, Joining with master-tongue bore part. Not wan from Asia's fetiches, Nor red from Europe's old dynastic slaughter-house, (Area of murder-plots of thrones, with scent left yet of wars and  
  scaffolds everywhere,)
But come from Nature's long and harmless throes, peacefully  
  builded thence,
These virgin lands, lands of the Western shore, To the new culminating man, to you, the empire new, You promis'd long, we pledge, we dedicate.
You occult deep volitions, You average spiritual manhood, purpose of all, pois'd on yourself,  
  giving not taking law,
You womanhood divine, mistress and source of all, whence life  
  and love and aught that comes from life and love,
You unseen moral essence of all the vast materials of America,  
  (age upon age working in death the same as life,)
You that, sometimes known, oftener unknown, really shape and  
  mould the New World, adjusting it to Time and Space,
You hidden national will lying in your abysms, conceal'd but ever  
You past and present purposes tenaciously pursued, may-be uncon- 
 scious of yourselves,
Unswerv'd by all the passing errors, perturbations of the surface; You vital, universal, deathless germs, beneath all creeds, arts,  
  statutes, literatures,
Here build your homes for good, establish here, these areas entire,  
  lands of the Western shore,
We pledge, we dedicate to you.
For man of you, your characteristic race,   [ begin page 168 ]ppp.00707.176.jpg Here may he hardy, sweet, gigantic grow, here tower proportion- 
 ate to Nature,
Here climb the vast pure spaces unconfined, uncheck'd by wall or  
Here laugh with storm or sun, here joy, here patiently inure, Here heed himself, unfold himself, (not others' formulas heed,)  
  here fill his time,
To duly fall, to aid, unreck'd at last, To disappear, to serve.
Thus on the northern coast, In the echo of teamsters' calls and the clinking chains, and the  
 music of choppers' axes,
The falling trunk and limbs, the crash, the muffled shriek, the  
Such words combined from the redwood-tree, as of voices ecstatic, 
 ancient and rustling,
The century-lasting, unseen dryads, singing, withdrawing, All their recesses of forests and mountains leaving, From the Cascade range to the Wahsatch, or Idaho far, or Utah, To the deities of the modern henceforth yielding, The chorus and indications, the vistas of coming humanity, the  
 settlements, features all,
In the Mendocino woods I caught.


The flashing and golden pageant of California, The sudden and gorgeous drama, the sunny and ample lands, The long and varied stretch from Puget sound to Colorado south, Lands bathed in sweeter, rarer, healthier air, valleys and mountain  
The fields of Nature long prepared and fallow, the silent, cyclic  
The slow and steady ages plodding, the unoccupied surface ripen- 
 ing, the rich ores forming beneath;
At last the New arriving, assuming, taking possession, A swarming and busy race settling and organizing everywhere, Ships coming in from the whole round world, and going out to  
 the whole world,
To India and China and Australia and the thousand island para- 
 dises of the Pacific,
Populous cities, the latest inventions, the steamers on the rivers, 
 the railroads, with many a thrifty farm, with machinery,
And wool and wheat and the grape, and diggings of yellow gold.
  [ begin page 169 ]ppp.00707.177.jpg


But more in you than these, lands of the Western shore, (These but the means, the implements, the standing-ground,) I see in you, certain to come, the promise of thousands of years, 
 till now deferr'd,
Promis'd to be fulfill'd, our common kind, the race.
The new society at last, proportionate to Nature, In man of you, more than your mountain peaks or stalwart trees  
In woman more, far more, than all your gold or vines, or even  
 vital air.
Fresh come, to a new world indeed, yet long prepared, I see the genius of the modern, child of the real and ideal, Clearing the ground for broad humanity, the true America, heir  
 of the past so grand,
To build a grander future.



A SONG for occupations! In the labor of engines and trades and the labor of fields I find  
 the developments,
And find the eternal meanings.
Workmen and Workwomen! Were all educations practical and ornamental well display'd out  
 of me, what would it amount to?
Were I as the head teacher, charitable proprietor, wise statesman, 
 what would it amount to?
Were I to you as the boss employing and paying you, would that  
 satisfy you?
The learn'd, virtuous, benevolent, and the usual terms, A man like me and never the usual terms. Neither a servant nor a master I, I take no sooner a large price than a small price, I will have my  
 own whoever enjoys me,
I will be even with you and you shall be even with me.
  [ begin page 170 ]ppp.00707.178.jpg If you stand at work in a shop I stand as nigh as the nighest in  
 the same shop,
If you bestow gifts on your brother or dearest friend I demand as  
 good as your brother or dearest friend,
If your lover, husband, wife, is welcome by day or night, I must  
 be personally as welcome,
If you become degraded, criminal, ill, then I become so for your  
If you remember your foolish and outlaw'd deeds, do you think  
 I cannot remember my own foolish and outlaw'd deeds?
If you carouse at the table I carouse at the opposite side of the  
If you meet some stranger in the streets and love him or her, why  
 I often meet strangers in the street and love them.
Why what have you thought of yourself? Is it you then that thought yourself less? Is it you that thought the President greater than you? Or the rich better off than you? or the educated wiser than you? (Because you are greasy or pimpled, or were once drunk, or a  
Or that you are diseas'd, or rheumatic, or a prostitute, Or from frivolity or impotence, or that you are no scholar and  
 never saw your name in print,
Do you give in that you are any less immortal?)


Souls of men and women! it is not you I call unseen, unheard, 
 untouchable and untouching,
It is not you I go argue pro and con about, and to settle whether  
 you are alive or no,
I own publicly who you are, if nobody else owns.
Grown, half-grown and babe, of this country and every country, in- 
 doors and out-doors, one just as much as the other, I see,
And all else behind or through them.
The wife, and she is not one jot less than the husband, The daughter, and she is just as good as the son, The mother, and she is every bit as much as the father. Offspring of ignorant and poor, boys apprenticed to trades, Young fellows working on farms and old fellows working on farms, Sailor-men, merchant-men, coasters, immigrants,   [ begin page 171 ]ppp.00707.179.jpg All these I see, but nigher and farther the same I see, None shall escape me and none shall wish to escape me. I bring what you much need yet always have, Not money, amours, dress, eating, erudition, but as good, I send no agent or medium, offer no representative of value, but  
 offer the value itself.
There is something that comes to one now and perpetually, It is not what is printed, preach'd, discussed, it eludes discussion  
 and print,
It is not to be put in a book, it is not in this book, It is for you whoever you are, it is no farther from you than your  
 hearing and sight are from you,
It is hinted by nearest, commonest, readiest, it is ever provoked  
 by them.
You may read in many languages, yet read nothing about it, You may read the President's message and read nothing about it  
Nothing in the reports from the State department or Treasury  
 department, or in the daily papers or weekly papers,
Or in the census or revenue returns, prices current, or any  
 accounts of stock.


The sun and stars that float in the open air, The apple-shaped earth and we upon it, surely the drift of them  
 is something grand,
I do not know what it is except that it is grand, and that it is  
And that the enclosing purport of us here is not a speculation or  
 bon-mot or reconnoissance,
And that it is not something which by luck may turn out well for  
 us, and without luck must be a failure for us,
And not something which may yet be retracted in a certain  
The light and shade, the curious sense of body and identity, the  
 greed that with perfect complaisance devours all things,
The endless pride and outstretching of man, unspeakable joys  
 and sorrows,
The wonder every one sees in every one else he sees, and the  
 wonders that fill each minute of time forever,
What have you reckon'd them for, camerado?   [ begin page 172 ]ppp.00707.180.jpg Have you reckon'd them for your trade or farm-work? or for the  
 profits of your store?
Or to achieve yourself a position? or to fill a gentleman's leisure, 
 or a lady's leisure?
Have you reckon'd that the landscape took substance and form  
 that it might be painted in a picture?
Or men and women that they might be written of, and songs sung? Or the attraction of gravity, and the great laws and harmonious  
 combinations and the fluids of the air, as subjects for the  
Or the brown land and the blue sea for maps and charts? Or the stars to be put in constellations and named fancy names? Or that the growth of seeds is for agricultural tables, or agricul- 
 ture itself?
Old institutions, these arts, libraries, legends, collections, and the  
 practice handed along in manufactures, will we rate them  
 so high?
Will we rate our cash and business high? I have no objection, I rate them as high as the highest—then a child born of a  
 woman and man I rate beyond all rate.
We thought our Union grand, and our Constitution grand, I do not say they are not grand and good, for they are, I am this day just as much in love with them as you, Then I am in love with You, and with all my fellows upon the  
We consider bibles and religions divine—I do not say they are  
 not divine,
I say they have all grown out of you, and may grow out of you  
It is not they who give the life, it is you who give the life, Leaves are not more shed from the trees, or trees from the earth, 
 than they are shed out of you.


The sum of all known reverence I add up in you whoever you are, The President is there in the White House for you, it is not you  
 who are here for him,
The Secretaries act in their bureaus for you, not you here for them, The Congress convenes every Twelfth-month for you, Laws, courts, the forming of States, the charters of cities, the  
 going and coming of commerce and mails, are all for you.
  [ begin page 173 ]ppp.00707.181.jpg List close my scholars dear, Doctrines, politics and civilization exurge from you, Sculpture and monuments and any thing inscribed anywhere are  
 tallied in you,
The gist of histories and statistics as far back as the records reach  
 is in you this hour, and myths and tales the same,
If you were not breathing and walking here, where would they  
 all be?
The most renown'd poems would be ashes, orations and plays  
 would be vacuums.
All architecture is what you do to it when you look upon it, (Did you think it was in the white or gray stone? or the lines of  
 the arches and cornices?)
All music is what awakes from you when you are reminded by the  
It is not the violins and the cornets, it is not the oboe nor the  
 beating drums, nor the score of the baritone singer singing  
 his sweet romanza, nor that of the men's chorus, nor that  
 of the women's chorus,
It is nearer and farther than they.


Will the whole come back then? Can each see signs of the best by a look in the looking-glass? is  
 there nothing greater or more?
Does all sit there with you, with the mystic unseen soul?
Strange and hard that paradox true I give, Objects gross and the unseen soul are one. House-building, measuring, sawing the boards, Blacksmithing, glass-blowing, nail-making, coopering, tin-roofing, 
Ship-joining, dock-building, fish-curing, flagging of sidewalks by  
The pump, the pile-driver, the great derrick, the coal-kiln and  
Coal-mines and all that is down there, the lamps in the darkness, 
 echoes, songs, what meditations, what vast native thoughts  
 looking through smutch'd faces,
Iron-works, forge-fires in the mountains or by river-banks, men  
 around feeling the melt with huge crowbars, lumps of ore, 
 the due combining of ore, limestone, coal,
  [ begin page 174 ]ppp.00707.182.jpg The blast-furnace and the puddling-furnace, the loup-lump at the  
 bottom of the melt at last, the rolling-mill, the stumpy  
 bars of pig-iron, the strong clean-shaped T-rail for rail- 
Oil-works, silk-works, white-lead-works, the sugar-house, steam- 
 saws, the great mills and factories,
Stone-cutting, shapely trimmings for façades or window or door- 
 lintels, the mallet, the tooth-chisel, the jib to protect the  
The calking-iron, the kettle of boiling vault-cement, and the fire  
 under the kettle,
The cotton-bale, the stevedore's hook, the saw and buck of the  
 sawyer, the mould of the moulder, the working-knife of  
 the butcher, the ice-saw, and all the work with ice,
The work and tools of the rigger, grappler, sail-maker, block- 
Goods of gutta-percha, papier-maché, colors, brushes, brush- 
 making, glazier's implements,
The veneer and glue-pot, the confectioner's ornaments, the  
 decanter and glasses, the shears and flat-iron,
The awl and knee-strap, the pint measure and quart measure, the  
 counter and stool, the writing-pen of quill or metal, the  
 making of all sorts of edged tools,
The brewery, brewing, the malt, the vats, every thing that is done  
 by brewers, wine-makers, vinegar-makers,
Leather-dressing, coach-making, boiler-making, rope-twisting, dis- 
 tilling, sign-painting, lime-burning, cotton-picking, electro- 
 plating, electrotyping, stereotyping,
Stave-machines, planing-machines, reaping-machines, ploughing- 
 machines, thrashing-machines, steam wagons,
The cart of the carman, the omnibus, the ponderous dray, Pyrotechny, letting off color'd fireworks at night, fancy figures and  
Beef on the butcher's stall, the slaughter-house of the butcher, the  
 butcher in his killing-clothes,
The pens of live pork, the killing-hammer, the hog-hook, the  
 scalder's tub, gutting, the cutter's cleaver, the packer's maul, 
 and the plenteous winterwork of pork-packing,
Flour-works, grinding of wheat, rye, maize, rice, the barrels and  
 the half and quarter barrels, the loaded barges, the high  
 piles on wharves and levees,
The men and the work of the men on ferries, railroads, coasters, 
 fish-boats, canals;
The hourly routine of your own or any man's life, the shop, yard, 
 store, or factory,
  [ begin page 175 ]ppp.00707.183.jpg These shows all near you by day and night—workman! whoever  
 you are, your daily life!
In that and them the heft of the heaviest—in that and them far  
 more than you estimated, (and far less also,)
In them realities for you and me, in them poems for you and me, In them, not yourself—you and your soul enclose all things, re- 
 gardless of estimation,
In them the development good—in them all themes, hints, possi- 
I do not affirm that what you see beyond is futile, I do not advise  
 you to stop,
I do not say leadings you thought great are not great, But I say that none lead to greater than these lead to.


Will you seek afar off? you surely come back at last, In things best known to you finding the best, or as good as the  
In folks nearest to you finding the sweetest, strongest, lovingest, Happiness, knowledge, n