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trod, calling, I sing, for the last; (Not cities, nor man alone, nor war, nor the dead, But forth from my

vistas beyond— to the south and the north; To the leaven'd soil of the general western world, to attest my

Northern ice and rain, that began me, nourish me to the end; But the hot sun of the South is to ripen my

WHO learns my lesson complete?

as every one is immortal; I know it is wonderful—but my eye-sight is equally wonderful, and how I was

conceived in my mother's womb is equally wonderful; And pass'd from a babe, in the creeping trance of

And that my Soul embraces you this hour, and we affect each other without ever seeing each other, and

MY spirit to yours, dear brother; Do not mind because many, sounding your name, do not understand you

I do not sound your name, but I understand you, (there are others also;) I specify you with joy, O my

divisions, jealousies, recriminations on every side, They close peremptorily upon us, to surround us, my

world, a rural domestic life; Give me to warble spontaneous songs, reliev'd, recluse by myself, for my

excitement, and rack'd by the war-strife;) These to procure, incessantly asking, rising in cries from my

heart, While yet incessantly asking, still I adhere to my city; Day upon day, and year upon year, O

enrich'd of soul—you give me forever faces; (O I see what I sought to escape, confronting, reversing my

cries; I see my own soul trampling down what it ask'd for.) 2 Keep your splendid silent sun; Keep your

A SIGHT in camp in the day-break grey and dim, As from my tent I emerge so early, sleepless, As slow

Who are you, my dear comrade? Then to the second I step—And who are you, my child and darling?

and then in the silence, Alone I had thought—yet soon a silent troop gathers around me, Some walk by my

side, and some behind, and some embrace my arms or neck, They, the spirits of friends, dead or alive—thicker

lilac, with a branch of pine, Here out of my pocket, some moss which I pull'd off a live-oak in Florida

from the water by the pond-side, that I reserve, I will give of it—but only to them that love, as I my

I were nothing; From what I am determin'd to make illustrious, even if I stand sole among men; From my

The oath of the inseparableness of two together—of the woman that loves me, and whom I love more than my

warp and from the woof; (To talk to the perfect girl who understands me, To waft to her these from my

own lips—to effuse them from my own body;) From privacy—from frequent repinings alone; From plenty of

the right person not near; From the soft sliding of hands over me, and thrusting of fingers through my

indifferent , but trembling with age and your unheal'd wounds, you mounted the scaffold;) I would sing in my

know not why, but I loved you…(and so go forth little song, Far over sea speed like an arrow, carrying my

love, and drop these lines at his feet;) —Nor forget I to sing of the wonder, the ship as she swam up my

bay, Well-shaped and stately the Great Eastern swam up my bay, she was 600 feet long, Her moving swiftly

if that were not the resumé; Of Histories—As if such, however complete, were not less complete than my

poems; As if the shreds, the records of nations, could possibly be as lasting as my poems; As if here

love, spit their salutes; When the fire-flashing guns have fully alerted me— when heaven-clouds canopy my

See, my cantabile!

For I too, raising my voice, join the ranks of this pageant; I am the chanter—I chant aloud over the

pageant; I chant the world on my Western Sea; I chant, copious, the islands beyond, thick as stars in

chant, projected, a thousand blooming cities yet, in time, on those groups of sea-islands; I chant my

I call to the world to distrust the accounts of my friends, but listen to my enemies—as I myself do;

WHO learns my lesson complete?

as every one is immortal; I know it is wonderful—but my eye-sight is equally wonderful, and how I was

And that my Soul embraces you this hour, and we affect each other without ever seeing each other, and

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem; I whisper with my lips close to your

For that we live, my brethren—that is the mission of Poets.

Have you studied out my land, its idioms and men?

What is this you bring my America? Is it uniform with my country?

rapt song, my charm—mock me not!

You, by my charm, I invoke!

And so will some one, when I am dead and gone, write my life?

(As if any man really knew aught of my life; As if you, O cunning Soul, did not keep your secret well

Deliriate, thus prelude what is generated, offering these, offering myself, Bathing myself, bathing my

songs in Sex, Offspring of my loins.

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.

the sisters Death and Night, incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world: …For my

where he lies, white-faced and still, in the coffin—I draw near; I bend down and touch lightly with my

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem; I whisper with my lips close to your

O I have been dilatory and dumb; I should have made my way straight to you long ago; I should have blabb'd

paint myriads of heads, but paint no head with- out without its nimbus of gold-color'd light; From my

What do my shouts amid lightnings and raging winds mean?)

(I bequeath them to you, my children, I tell them to you, for reasons, O bridegroom and bride.)

To rise thither with my inebriate Soul! To be lost, if it must be so!

BEHOLD this swarthy face, this unrefined face—these gray eyes, This beard—the white wool, unclipt upon my

neck, My brown hands, and the silent manner of me, with- out without charm; Yet comes one, a Manhattanese

good as such-like, visible here or anywhere, stand provided for in a handful of space, which I extend my

arm and half enclose with my hand; That contains the start of each and all—the virtue, the germs of

I exclude you; Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you, and the leaves to rustle for you, do my

My girl, I appoint with you an appointment—and I charge you that you make preparation to be worthy to

nor the bright win- dows windows , with goods in them; Nor to converse with learn'd persons, or bear my

your fre- quent frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love, Offering response to my own—these

it harm'd me, giving others the same chances and rights as myself—As if it were not indispensable to my

AS I sit with others, at a great feast, suddenly, while the music is playing, To my mind, (whence it

if that were not the resumé; Of Histories—As if such, however complete, were not less complete than my

poems; As if the shreds, the records of nations, could possibly be as lasting as my poems; As if here

smoke; By these, crowds, groups of forms, vaguely I see, on the floor, some in the pews laid down; At my

staunch the blood temporarily, (the youngster's face is white as a lily;) Then before I depart I sweep my

resume as I chant—I see again the forms, I smell the odor; Then hear outside the orders given, Fall in, my

. 1 DESPAIRING cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night, The sad voice of Death—the call of my

alarm'd, uncertain, The Sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my

all—aplomb in the midst of irrational things, Imbued as they—passive, receptive, silent as they, Finding my

of any farm- life farm-life of These States, or of the coast, or the lakes, or Kanada, Me, wherever my

I WAS asking for something specific and perfect for my city, Whereupon, lo!

there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly, musical, self-sufficient; I see that the word of my

my city! The city of such women, I am mad to be with them!

O lips of my soul, already becoming powerless! O ample and grand Presidentiads! New history!

(I must not venture—the ground under my feet men- aces menaces me—it will not support me;) O present!

Features of my equals, would you trick me with your creas'd and cadaverous march?

I saw the face of the most smear'd and slobbering idiot they had at the asylum; And I knew for my consolation

what they knew not; I knew of the agents that emptied and broke my brother, The same wait to clear the

pickets, Come here, she blushingly cries—Come nigh to me, lim-ber-hipp'dlimber-hipp'd man, Stand at my

upon you, Fill me with albescent honey, bend down to me, Rub to me with your chafing beard, rub to my

1 COME, my tan-faced children, Follow well in order, get your weapons ready; Have you your pistols?

2 For we cannot tarry here, We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt of danger, We, the youthful

O my breast aches with tender love for all!

12 See, my children, resolute children, By those swarms upon our rear, we must never yield or falter,

18 I too with my soul and body, We, a curious trio, picking, wandering on our way, Through these shores

Then my realities; What else is so real as mine?

done and gone, we remain; There is no final reliance but upon us; Democracy rests finally upon us, (I, my

FIRST, O songs, for a prelude, Lightly strike on the stretch'd tympanum, pride and joy in my city, How

O Manhattan, my own, my peerless! O strongest you in the hour of danger, in crisis!

Forty years had I in my city seen soldiers parading; Forty years as a pageant—till unawares, the Lady

Let me have my own way; Let others promulge the laws—I will make no account of the laws; Let others praise

I call to the world to distrust the accounts of my friends, but listen to my enemies—as I myself do;

WITH antecedents; With my fathers and mothers, and the accumulations of past ages; With all which, had

In the name of These States, and in your and my name, the Past, And in the name of These States, and

in your and my name, the Present time.

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,

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 lover, The friend, the lover's portrait, of whom

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

Softly I lay my right hand upon you—you just feel it, I do not argue—I bend my head close, and half-

Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd with iron, or my ankles with iron?

Why do you tremble, and clutch my hand so convul- sively convulsively ?

Aye, this is the ground; My blind eyes, even as I speak, behold it re-peopled from graves: The years

night of that, mist lifting, rain ceasing, Silent as a ghost, while they thought they were sure of him, my

him at the river-side, Down by the ferry, lit by torches, hastening the embar- cation embarcation ; My

But when my General pass'd me, As he stood in his boat, and look'd toward the coming sun, I saw something

O maidens and young men I love, and that love me, What you ask of my days, those the strangest and sud

Bearing the bandages, water and sponge, Straight and swift to my wounded I go, Where they lie on the

knee, the wound in the abdo- men abdomen , These and more I dress with impassive hand—(yet deep in my

Thus in silence, in dream's projections, Returning, resuming, I thread my way through the hos- pitals

good as such-like, visible here or anywhere, stand provided for in a handful of space, which I extend my

arm and half enclose with my hand; That contains the start of each and all—the virtue, the germs of

WHAT am I, after all, but a child, pleased with the sound of my own name?

BY the City Dead-House, by the gate, As idly sauntering, wending my way from the clangor, I curious pause—for

take one breath from my tremulous lips; Take one tear, dropt aside as I go, for thought of you, Dead

To Workingmen TO WORKINGMEN. 1 COME closer to me; Push close, my lovers, and take the best I possess;

Neither a servant nor a master am I; I take no sooner a large price than a small price—I will have my

become so for your sake; If you remember your foolish and outlaw'd deeds, do you think I cannot remember my

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

List close, my scholars dear!

1 O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman! Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds!

change of the light and shade, I see distant lands, as real and near to the inhabitants of them, as my

see Hermes, unsuspected, dying, well-beloved, saying to the people, Do not weep for me, This is not my

race; I see the results of the perseverance and industry of my race; I see ranks, colors, barbarisms

F2 I have run through what any river or strait of the globe has run through; I have taken my stand on

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,

, futurity, In space, the sporades, the scattered islands, the stars —on the firm earth, the lands, my

less in myself than the whole of the Manna- hatta Mannahatta in itself, Singing the song of These, my

my lands are inevitably united, and made ONE IDENTITY; Nativities, climates, the grass of the great

You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them shape!

Why, when they leave me, do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?

My call is the call of battle—I nourish active re- bellion rebellion ?

It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well. Allons! Be not detain'd!

I give you my hand!

my brother or my sister! Keep on!

I walk'd the shores of my Eastern Sea, Heard over the waves the little voice, Saw the divine infant,

I maintain the be- queath bequeath'd cause, as for all lands, And I send these words to Paris with my

Air, soil, water, fire—these are words; I myself am a word with them—my qualities inter- penetrate interpenetrate

with theirs—my name is nothing to them; Though it were told in the three thousand languages, what would

air, soil, water, fire, know of my name?

When I undertake to tell the best, I find I cannot, My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots, My breath