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from east to west as they lie unclothed, The Asiatic and African are hand in hand, the European and American

stands; Let judges and criminals be transposed—let the prison-keepers be put in prison—let those that were

To think that the sun rose in the east—that men and women were flexible, real, alive—that every thing

To think the thought of death merged in the thought of materials, To think of all these wonders of city

To think how much pleasure there is, Do you enjoy yourself in the city? or engaged in business?

7 It is not to diffuse you that you were born of your mother and father, it is to identify you, It is

The threads that were spun are gather'd, the weft crosses the warp, the pattern is systematic.

touching, including God, including Saviour and Satan, Ethereal, pervading all, (for without me what were

what were God?)

burial-places to find him, And I found that every place was a burial-place; The houses full of life were

streets, the shipping, the places of amusement, the Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia, the Mannahatta, were

now I am willing to disregard burial-places and dispense with them, And if the memorials of the dead were

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

costumes of peace with indifferent hand, How your soft opera-music changed, and the drum and fife were

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

of this teeming and turbulent city, Sleepless amid her ships, her houses, her incalculable wealth, With

The blood of the city up—arm'd! arm'd!

sonorous voice ringing across the continent, Your masculine voice O year, as rising amid the great cities

Over the traffic of cities—over the rumble of wheels in the streets; Are beds prepared for sleepers at

the sea-bird, and look down as from a height, I do not deny the precious results of peace, I see populous

cities with wealth incalculable, I see numberless farms, I see the farmers working in their fields or

spacious and haughty States, (nor any five, nor ten,) Nor market nor depot we, nor money-bank in the city

the earth and the sea never gave us, Not through the mighty woods we go, but through the mightier cities

What, to pavements and homesteads here, what were those storms of the mountains and sea?

And do you rise higher than ever yet O days, O cities! Crash heavier, heavier yet O storms!

ground before me, Continually preceding my steps, turning upon me oft, ironically hissing low; The cities

wait, I am fully satisfied, I am glutted, I have witness'd the true lightning, I have witness'd my cities

City of Ships. CITY OF SHIPS. CITY of ships! (O the black ships! O the fierce ships!

City of the world!

city of hurried and glittering tides!

City of wharves and stores—city of tall façades of marble and iron!

Proud and passionate city—mettlesome, mad, extravagant city!

shines down, Green the midsummer verdure and fresh blows the dallying breeze, O'er proud and peaceful cities

not with terror, But suddenly pouring about me here on every side, And below there where the boys were

Twenty thousand were brought against us, A veteran force furnish'd with good artillery.

close together, very compact, their flag flying in the middle, But O from the hills how the cannon were

day, But the night of that, mist lifting, rain ceasing, Silent as a ghost while they thought they were

Smell you the buckwheat where the bees were lately buzzing?)

Ah now the single figure to me, Amid all teeming and wealthy Ohio with all its cities and farms, Sickly

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 city, walking your streets, Where you hold me enchain'd a certain

I see a sad procession, And I hear the sound of coming full-key'd bugles, All the channels of the city

(Were you looking to be held together by lawyers? Or by an agreement on a paper? or by arms?

lines, a desperate emergency, I saw a hundred and more step forth from the ranks, but two or three were

(Washington City, 1865.)

(Washington City, 1865.) SPIRIT whose work is done—spirit of dreadful hours!

wast not granted to sing thou would'st surely die.) 5 Over the breast of the spring, the land, amid cities

day and night with the great cloud darkening the land, With the pomp of the inloop'd flags with the cities

not what kept me from sleep,) As the night advanced, and I saw on the rim of the west how full you were

and there, With ranging hills on the banks, with many a line against the sky, and shadows, And the city

men, I saw them, I saw the debris and debris of all the slain soldiers of the war, But I saw they were

neck with incomparable love, Plunging his seminal muscle into its merits and demerits, Making its cities

The superior marine, free commerce, fisheries, whaling, gold-dig- ging gold-digging , Wharf-hemm'd cities

What does it mean to American persons, progresses, cities?

Underneath all, individuals, I swear nothing is good to me now that ignores individuals, The American

by irrational things, I will penetrate what it is in them that is sarcastic upon me, I will make cities

, To India and China and Australia and the thousand island para- dises paradises of the Pacific, Populous

cities, the latest inventions, the steamers on the rivers, the railroads, with many a thrifty farm,

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?

(Because you are greasy or pimpled, or were once drunk, or a thief, Or that you are diseas'd, or rheumatic

Congress convenes every Twelfth-month for you, Laws, courts, the forming of States, the charters of cities

A SONG OF THE ROLLING EARTH. 1 A SONG of the rolling earth, and of words according, Were you thinking

that those were the words, those upright lines?

Were you thinking that those were the words, those delicious sounds out of your friends' mouths?

am a word with them—my qualities interpenetrate with theirs—my name is nothing to them, Though it were

If they had not reference to you in especial what were they then?)

the scaffold;) I would sing in my copious song your census returns of the States, The tables of population

that the old accounts, bibles, genealogies, are true, without exception, I assert that all past days were

what they must have been, And that they could no-how have been better than they were, And that to-day

To us, my city, Where our tall-topt marble and iron beauties range on opposite sides, to walk in the

from your Western golden shores, The countries there with their populations, the millions en-masse are

Were the children straying westward so long? so wide the tramping?

Were the precedent dim ages debouching westward from Paradise so long?

Were the centuries steadily footing it that way, all the while unknown, for you, for reasons?

barefoot, Down from the shower'd halo, Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as if they were

what joys were thine!

They live in brothers again ready to defy you, They were purified by death, they were taught and exalted

The stars themselves, some shaped, others unshaped, Wonders as of those countries, the soil, trees, cities

WHEN I heard the learn'd astronomer, When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,

of the questions of these recurring, Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill'd with the

OF Equality—as if it harm'd me, giving others the same chances and rights as myself—as if it were not

I saw the rich ladies in full dress at the soiree, I heard what the singers were singing so long, Heard

noises of the night-owl and the wild-cat, and the whirr of the rattlesnake, The mocking-bird, the American

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 city

broken ice in the river, passing along up or down with the flood-tide or ebb-tide, The mechanics of the city

people—manners free and superb—open voices— hospitality—the most courageous and friendly young men, City

city of spires and masts! City nested in bays! my city!

Indifferently, 'mid public, private haunts, in solitude, Behind the mountain and the wood, Companion of the city's

for I think I have reason to be the proudest son alive—for I am the son of the brawny and tall-topt city

sight of products, they shall enjoy the sight of the beef, lumber, bread-stuffs, of Chicago the great city

all to the front, Invisibly with thee walking with kings with even pace the round world's promenade, Were

world, politics, produce, The announcements of recognized things, science, The approved growth of cities

But I too announce solid things, Science, ships, politics, cities, factories, are not nothing, Like a

European kings removed, I see this day the People beginning their landmarks, (all others give way;) Never were

what life, what joy and pride, With all the perils were yours.)

How the great cities appear—how the Democratic masses, turbu- lent turbulent , wilful, as I love them

sloping down there where the fresh free giver the mother, the Mississippi flows, Of mighty inland cities

of the Western Sea, As I roam'd the streets of inland Chicago, whatever streets I have roam'd, Or cities

respond within their breasts, their brains, the sad reverberations,) The passionate toll and clang—city

to city, joining, sounding, passing, Those heart-beats of a Nation in the night.

announce adhesiveness, I say it shall be limitless, unloosen'd, I say you shall yet find the friend you were

my grandmother Whitman) had only one brother, who died a young man—(the grave-stones from his grave were

The notes are similar to many of Whitman's other jottings about family in the 1850s and 1860s.

The notes are similar to many of Whitman's other jottings about family in the 1850s and 1860s.

In addition, in the 1870s, Whitman repeatedly complained about how he was treated by American magazines

He sometimes exaggerated his neglect, as in the third-person account "Walt Whitman's Actual American

He argued there that he had been all but banned from American magazines.

In addition, in the 1870s, Whitman repeatedly complained about how he was treated by American magazines

He sometimes exaggerated his neglect, as in the third-person account "Walt Whitman's Actual American

He argued there that he had been all but banned from American magazines.