By that long scan of waves, myself call'd back, resumed upon myself,In every crest some undulating light or shade—some retrospect,
[ begin page 391 ]ppp.00707.399.jpgJoys, travels, studies, silent panoramas—scenes ephemeral,The long past war, the battles, hospital sights, the wounded and the dead,Myself through every by-gone phase—my idle youth—old age at hand,My three-score years of life summ'd up, and more, and past,By any grand ideal tried, intentionless, the whole a nothing,And haply yet some drop within God's scheme's ensemble—some wave, or part of wave,Like one of yours, ye multitudinous ocean.