1POETS to come!Not to-day is to justify me, and Democracy, and what we are for,But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than before known,You must justify me.
[ begin page 187 ]ppp.01500.195.jpg2Indeed, if it were not for you, what would I be?What is the little I have done, except to arouse you?3I depend on being realized, long hence, where the broad fat prairies spread, and thence to Oregon and California inclusive,I expect that the Texan and the Arizonian, ages hence, will understand me,I expect that the future Carolinian and Georgian will understand me and love me,I expect that Kanadians, a hundred, and perhaps many hundred years from now, in winter, in the splendor of the snow and woods, or on the icy lakes, will take me with them, and permanently enjoy themselves with me.4Of to-day I know I am momentary, untouched—I am the bard of the future,I but write one or two indicative words for the future,I but advance a moment, only to wheel and hurry back in the darkness.5I 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.
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