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Years of the Modern.

Part of the cluster SONGS OF PARTING.


YEARS of the modern! years of the unperform'd! Your horizon rises, I see it parting away for more august dramas, I see not America only, not only Liberty's nation but other nations  
I see tremendous entrances and exits, new combinations, the soli- 
 darity of races,
I see that force advancing with irresistible power on the world's  
(Have the old forces, the old wars, played their parts? are the  
 acts suitable to them closed?)
I see Freedom, completely arm'd and victorious and very haughty, 
 with Law on one side and Peace on the other,
A stupendous trio all issuing forth against the idea of caste; What historic denouements are these we so rapidly approach? I see men marching and countermarching by swift millions, I see the frontiers and boundaries of the old aristocracies broken, I see the landmarks of European kings removed, I see this day the People beginning their landmarks, (all others  
 give way;)
Never were such sharp questions ask'd as this day, Never was average man, his soul, more energetic, more like a God,   [ begin page 371 ]ppp.00707.379.jpg Lo, how he urges and urges, leaving the masses no rest! His daring foot is on land and sea everywhere, he colonizes the  
 Pacific, the archipelagoes,
With the steamship, the electric telegraph, the newspaper, the  
 wholesale engines of war,
With these and the world-spreading factories he interlinks all  
 geography, all lands;
What whispers are these O lands, running ahead of you, passing  
 under the seas?
Are all nations communing? is there going to be but one heart to  
 the globe?
Is humanity forming en-masse? for lo, tyrants tremble, crowns  
 grow dim,
The earth, restive, confronts a new era, perhaps a general divine war, No one knows what will happen next, such portents fill the days  
 and nights;
Years prophetical! the space ahead as I walk, as I vainly try to  
 pierce it, is full of phantoms,
Unborn deeds, things soon to be, project their shapes around me, This incredible rush and heat, this strange ecstatic fever of dreams  
 O years!
Your dreams O years, how they penetrate through me! (I know  
 not whether I sleep or wake;)
The perform'd America and Europe grow dim, retiring in shadow  
 behind me,
The unperform'd, more gigantic than ever, advance, advance upon  

Part of the cluster SONGS OF PARTING.

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