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Leaves of Grass: I Hear It Was Charged Against Me

Leaves of Grass
I Hear It Was Charged Against Me
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table of contents
  1. LEAVES OF GRASS
  2. BOOK I. INSCRIPTIONS
  3. One's-Self I Sing
  4. As I Ponder'd in Silence
  5. In Cabin'd Ships at Sea
  6. To Foreign Lands
  7. To a Historian
  8. To Thee Old Cause
  9. Eidolons
  10. For Him I Sing
  11. When I Read the Book
  12. Beginning My Studies
  13. Beginners
  14. To the States
  15. On Journeys Through the States
  16. To a Certain Cantatrice
  17. Me Imperturbe
  18. Savantism
  19. The Ship Starting
  20. I Hear America Singing
  21. What Place Is Besieged?
  22. Still Though the One I Sing
  23. Shut Not Your Doors
  24. Poets to Come
  25. To You
  26. Thou Reader
  27. BOOK II
  28. BOOK III
  29. BOOK IV. CHILDREN OF ADAM
  30. From Pent-Up Aching Rivers
  31. I Sing the Body Electric
  32. A Woman Waits for Me
  33. Spontaneous Me
  34. One Hour to Madness and Joy
  35. Out of the Rolling Ocean the Crowd
  36. Ages and Ages Returning at Intervals
  37. We Two, How Long We Were Fool'd
  38. O Hymen! O Hymenee!
  39. I Am He That Aches with Love
  40. Native Moments
  41. Once I Pass'd Through a Populous City
  42. I Heard You Solemn-Sweet Pipes of the Organ
  43. Facing West from California's Shores
  44. As Adam Early in the Morning
  45. BOOK V. CALAMUS
  46. Scented Herbage of My Breast
  47. Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand
  48. For You, O Democracy
  49. These I Singing in Spring
  50. Not Heaving from My Ribb'd Breast Only
  51. Of the Terrible Doubt of Appearances
  52. The Base of All Metaphysics
  53. Recorders Ages Hence
  54. When I Heard at the Close of the Day
  55. Are You the New Person Drawn Toward Me?
  56. Roots and Leaves Themselves Alone
  57. Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes
  58. Trickle Drops
  59. City of Orgies
  60. Behold This Swarthy Face
  61. I Saw in Louisiana a Live-Oak Growing
  62. To a Stranger
  63. This Moment Yearning and Thoughtful
  64. I Hear It Was Charged Against Me
  65. The Prairie-Grass Dividing
  66. When I Peruse the Conquer'd Fame
  67. We Two Boys Together Clinging
  68. A Promise to California
  69. Here the Frailest Leaves of Me
  70. No Labor-Saving Machine
  71. A Glimpse
  72. A Leaf for Hand in Hand
  73. Earth, My Likeness
  74. I Dream'd in a Dream
  75. What Think You I Take My Pen in Hand?
  76. To the East and to the West
  77. Sometimes with One I Love
  78. To a Western Boy
  79. Fast Anchor'd Eternal O Love!
  80. Among the Multitude
  81. O You Whom I Often and Silently Come
  82. That Shadow My Likeness
  83. Full of Life Now
  84. BOOK VI
  85. BOOK VII
  86. BOOK VIII
  87. BOOK IX
  88. BOOK X
  89. BOOK XI
  90. BOOK XII
  91. BOOK XIII
  92. BOOK XIV
  93. BOOK XV
  94. BOOK XVI
  95. Youth, Day, Old Age and Night
  96. BOOK XVII. BIRDS OF PASSAGE
  97. Pioneers! O Pioneers!
  98. To You
  99. France [the 18th Year of these States
  100. Myself and Mine
  101. Year of Meteors [1859-60
  102. With Antecedents
  103. BOOK XVIII
  104. BOOK XIX. SEA-DRIFT
  105. As I Ebb'd with the Ocean of Life
  106. Tears
  107. To the Man-of-War-Bird
  108. Aboard at a Ship's Helm
  109. On the Beach at Night
  110. The World below the Brine
  111. On the Beach at Night Alone
  112. Song for All Seas, All Ships
  113. Patroling Barnegat
  114. After the Sea-Ship
  115. BOOK XX. BY THE ROADSIDE
  116. Europe [The 72d and 73d Years of These States]
  117. A Hand-Mirror
  118. Gods
  119. Germs
  120. Thoughts
  121. Perfections
  122. O Me! O Life!
  123. To a President
  124. I Sit and Look Out
  125. To Rich Givers
  126. The Dalliance of the Eagles
  127. Roaming in Thought [After reading Hegel]
  128. A Farm Picture
  129. A Child's Amaze
  130. The Runner
  131. Beautiful Women
  132. Mother and Babe
  133. Thought
  134. Visor'd
  135. Thought
  136. Gliding O'er all
  137. Hast Never Come to Thee an Hour
  138. Thought
  139. To Old Age
  140. Locations and Times
  141. Offerings
  142. To The States [To Identify the 16th, 17th, or 18th Presidentiad]
  143. BOOK XXI. DRUM-TAPS
  144. Eighteen Sixty-One
  145. Beat! Beat! Drums!
  146. From Paumanok Starting I Fly Like a Bird
  147. Song of the Banner at Daybreak
  148. Rise O Days from Your Fathomless Deeps
  149. Virginia—The West
  150. City of Ships
  151. The Centenarian's Story
  152. Cavalry Crossing a Ford
  153. Bivouac on a Mountain Side
  154. An Army Corps on the March
  155. Come Up from the Fields Father
  156. Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field One Night
  157. A March in the Ranks Hard-Prest, and the Road Unknown
  158. A Sight in Camp in the Daybreak Gray and Dim
  159. As Toilsome I Wander'd Virginia's Woods
  160. Not the Pilot
  161. Year That Trembled and Reel'd Beneath Me
  162. The Wound-Dresser
  163. Long, Too Long America
  164. Give Me the Splendid Silent Sun
  165. Dirge for Two Veterans
  166. Over the Carnage Rose Prophetic a Voice
  167. I Saw Old General at Bay
  168. The Artilleryman's Vision
  169. Ethiopia Saluting the Colors
  170. Not Youth Pertains to Me
  171. Race of Veterans
  172. World Take Good Notice
  173. O Tan-Faced Prairie-Boy
  174. Look Down Fair Moon
  175. Reconciliation
  176. How Solemn As One by One [Washington City, 1865]
  177. As I Lay with My Head in Your Lap Camerado
  178. Delicate Cluster
  179. To a Certain Civilian
  180. Lo, Victress on the Peaks
  181. Spirit Whose Work Is Done [Washington City, 1865]
  182. Adieu to a Soldier
  183. Turn O Libertad
  184. To the Leaven'd Soil They Trod
  185. BOOK XXII. MEMORIES OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN
  186. O Captain! My Captain!
  187. Hush'd Be the Camps To-Day [May 4, 1865
  188. This Dust Was Once the Man
  189. BOOK XXIII
  190. Reversals
  191. BOOK XXIV. AUTUMN RIVULETS
  192. The Return of the Heroes
  193. There Was a Child Went Forth
  194. Old Ireland
  195. The City Dead-House
  196. This Compost
  197. To a Foil'd European Revolutionaire
  198. Unnamed Land
  199. Song of Prudence
  200. The Singer in the Prison
  201. Warble for Lilac-Time
  202. Outlines for a Tomb [G. P., Buried 1870]
  203. Out from Behind This Mask [To Confront a Portrait]
  204. Vocalism
  205. To Him That Was Crucified
  206. You Felons on Trial in Courts
  207. Laws for Creations
  208. To a Common Prostitute
  209. I Was Looking a Long While
  210. Thought
  211. Miracles
  212. Sparkles from the Wheel
  213. To a Pupil
  214. Unfolded out of the Folds
  215. What Am I After All
  216. Kosmos
  217. Others May Praise What They Like
  218. Who Learns My Lesson Complete?
  219. Tests
  220. The Torch
  221. O Star of France [1870-71]
  222. The Ox-Tamer
  223. Wandering at Morn
  224. With All Thy Gifts
  225. My Picture-Gallery
  226. The Prairie States
  227. BOOK XXV
  228. BOOK XXVI
  229. BOOK XXVII
  230. BOOK XXVIII
  231. Transpositions
  232. BOOK XXIX
  233. BOOK XXX. WHISPERS OF HEAVENLY DEATH
  234. Whispers of Heavenly Death
  235. Chanting the Square Deific
  236. Of Him I Love Day and Night
  237. Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours
  238. As If a Phantom Caress'd Me
  239. Assurances
  240. Quicksand Years
  241. That Music Always Round Me
  242. What Ship Puzzled at Sea
  243. A Noiseless Patient Spider
  244. O Living Always, Always Dying
  245. To One Shortly to Die
  246. Night on the Prairies
  247. Thought
  248. The Last Invocation
  249. As I Watch the Ploughman Ploughing
  250. Pensive and Faltering
  251. BOOK XXXI
  252. A Paumanok Picture
  253. BOOK XXXII. FROM NOON TO STARRY NIGHT
  254. Faces
  255. The Mystic Trumpeter
  256. To a Locomotive in Winter
  257. O Magnet-South
  258. Mannahatta
  259. All Is Truth
  260. A Riddle Song
  261. Excelsior
  262. Ah Poverties, Wincings, and Sulky Retreats
  263. Thoughts
  264. Mediums
  265. Weave in, My Hardy Life
  266. Spain, 1873-74
  267. From Far Dakota's Canyons [June 25, 1876]
  268. Old War-Dreams
  269. Thick-Sprinkled Bunting
  270. As I Walk These Broad Majestic Days
  271. A Clear Midnight
  272. BOOK XXXIII. SONGS OF PARTING
  273. Years of the Modern
  274. Ashes of Soldiers
  275. Thoughts
  276. Song at Sunset
  277. As at Thy Portals Also Death
  278. My Legacy
  279. Pensive on Her Dead Gazing
  280. Camps of Green
  281. The Sobbing of the Bells [Midnight, Sept. 19-20, 1881]
  282. As They Draw to a Close
  283. Joy, Shipmate, Joy!
  284. The Untold Want
  285. Portals
  286. These Carols
  287. Now Finale to the Shore
  288. So Long!
  289. BOOK XXXIV. SANDS AT SEVENTY
  290. Paumanok
  291. From Montauk Point
  292. To Those Who've Fail'd
  293. A Carol Closing Sixty-Nine
  294. The Bravest Soldiers
  295. A Font of Type
  296. As I Sit Writing Here
  297. My Canary Bird
  298. Queries to My Seventieth Year
  299. The Wallabout Martyrs
  300. The First Dandelion
  301. America
  302. Memories
  303. To-Day and Thee
  304. After the Dazzle of Day
  305. Abraham Lincoln, Born Feb. 12, 1809
  306. Out of May's Shows Selected
  307. Halcyon Days
  308. Election Day, November, 1884
  309. With Husky-Haughty Lips, O Sea!
  310. Death of General Grant
  311. Red Jacket (From Aloft)
  312. Washington's Monument February, 1885
  313. Of That Blithe Throat of Thine
  314. Broadway
  315. To Get the Final Lilt of Songs
  316. Old Salt Kossabone
  317. The Dead Tenor
  318. Continuities
  319. Yonnondio
  320. Life
  321. "Going Somewhere"
  322. Small the Theme of My Chant
  323. True Conquerors
  324. The United States to Old World Critics
  325. The Calming Thought of All
  326. Thanks in Old Age
  327. Life and Death
  328. The Voice of the Rain
  329. Soon Shall the Winter's Foil Be Here
  330. While Not the Past Forgetting
  331. The Dying Veteran
  332. Stronger Lessons
  333. A Prairie Sunset
  334. Twenty Years
  335. Orange Buds by Mail from Florida
  336. Twilight
  337. You Lingering Sparse Leaves of Me
  338. Not Meagre, Latent Boughs Alone
  339. The Dead Emperor
  340. As the Greek's Signal Flame
  341. The Dismantled Ship
  342. Now Precedent Songs, Farewell
  343. An Evening Lull
  344. Old Age's Lambent Peaks
  345. After the Supper and Talk
  346. BOOKXXXV. GOOD-BYE MY FANCY
  347. Lingering Last Drops
  348. Good-Bye My Fancy
  349. On, on the Same, Ye Jocund Twain!
  350. MY 71st Year
  351. Apparitions
  352. The Pallid Wreath
  353. An Ended Day
  354. Old Age's Ship & Crafty Death's
  355. To the Pending Year
  356. Shakspere-Bacon's Cipher
  357. Long, Long Hence
  358. Bravo, Paris Exposition!
  359. Interpolation Sounds
  360. To the Sun-Set Breeze
  361. Old Chants
  362. A Christmas Greeting
  363. Sounds of the Winter
  364. A Twilight Song
  365. When the Full-Grown Poet Came
  366. Osceola
  367. A Voice from Death
  368. A Persian Lesson
  369. The Commonplace
  370. "The Rounded Catalogue Divine Complete"
  371. Mirages
  372. L. of G.'s Purport
  373. The Unexpress'd
  374. Grand Is the Seen
  375. Unseen Buds
  376. Good-Bye My Fancy!





I Hear It Was Charged Against Me

  I hear it was charged against me that I sought to destroy institutions,
  But really I am neither for nor against institutions,
  (What indeed have I in common with them? or what with the
      destruction of them?)
  Only I will establish in the Mannahatta and in every city of these
      States inland and seaboard,
  And in the fields and woods, and above every keel little or large
      that dents the water,
  Without edifices or rules or trustees or any argument,
  The institution of the dear love of comrades.





The Prairie-Grass Dividing

  The prairie-grass dividing, its special odor breathing,
  I demand of it the spiritual corresponding,
  Demand the most copious and close companionship of men,
  Demand the blades to rise of words, acts, beings,
  Those of the open atmosphere, coarse, sunlit, fresh, nutritious,
  Those that go their own gait, erect, stepping with freedom and
      command, leading not following,
  Those with a never-quell'd audacity, those with sweet and lusty
      flesh clear of taint,
  Those that look carelessly in the faces of Presidents and governors,
      as to say Who are you?
  Those of earth-born passion, simple, never constrain'd, never obedient,
  Those of inland America.





When I Peruse the Conquer'd Fame

  When I peruse the conquer'd fame of heroes and the victories of
      mighty generals, I do not envy the generals,
  Nor the President in his Presidency, nor the rich in his great house,
  But when I hear of the brotherhood of lovers, how it was with them,
  How together through life, through dangers, odium, unchanging, long
      and long,
  Through youth and through middle and old age, how unfaltering, how
      affectionate and faithful they were,
  Then I am pensive—I hastily walk away fill'd with the bitterest envy.





We Two Boys Together Clinging

  We two boys together clinging,
  One the other never leaving,
  Up and down the roads going, North and South excursions making,
  Power enjoying, elbows stretching, fingers clutching,
  Arm'd and fearless, eating, drinking, sleeping, loving.
  No law less than ourselves owning, sailing, soldiering, thieving,
      threatening,
  Misers, menials, priests alarming, air breathing, water drinking, on
      the turf or the sea-beach dancing,
  Cities wrenching, ease scorning, statutes mocking, feebleness chasing,
  Fulfilling our foray.





A Promise to California

  A promise to California,
  Or inland to the great pastoral Plains, and on to Puget sound and Oregon;
  Sojourning east a while longer, soon I travel toward you, to remain,
      to teach robust American love,
  For I know very well that I and robust love belong among you,
      inland, and along the Western sea;
  For these States tend inland and toward the Western sea, and I will also.





Here the Frailest Leaves of Me

  Here the frailest leaves of me and yet my strongest lasting,
  Here I shade and hide my thoughts, I myself do not expose them,
  And yet they expose me more than all my other poems.





No Labor-Saving Machine

  No labor-saving machine,
  Nor discovery have I made,
  Nor will I be able to leave behind me any wealthy bequest to found
      hospital or library,
  Nor reminiscence of any deed of courage for America,
  Nor literary success nor intellect; nor book for the book-shelf,
  But a few carols vibrating through the air I leave,
  For comrades and lovers.





A Glimpse

  A glimpse through an interstice caught,
  Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room around the stove
      late of a winter night, and I unremark'd seated in a corner,
  Of a youth who loves me and whom I love, silently approaching and
      seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand,
  A long while amid the noises of coming and going, of drinking and
      oath and smutty jest,
  There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little,
      perhaps not a word.





A Leaf for Hand in Hand

  A leaf for hand in hand;
  You natural persons old and young!
  You on the Mississippi and on all the branches and bayous of
      the Mississippi!
  You friendly boatmen and mechanics! you roughs!
  You twain! and all processions moving along the streets!
  I wish to infuse myself among you till I see it common for you to
      walk hand in hand.





Earth, My Likeness

  Earth, my likeness,
  Though you look so impassive, ample and spheric there,
  I now suspect that is not all;
  I now suspect there is something fierce in you eligible to burst forth,
  For an athlete is enamour'd of me, and I of him,
  But toward him there is something fierce and terrible in me eligible
      to burst forth,
  I dare not tell it in words, not even in these songs.





I Dream'd in a Dream

  I dream'd in a dream I saw a city invincible to the attacks of the
      whole of the rest of the earth,
  I dream'd that was the new city of Friends,
  Nothing was greater there than the quality of robust love, it led the rest,
  It was seen every hour in the actions of the men of that city,
  And in all their looks and words.





What Think You I Take My Pen in Hand?

  What think you I take my pen in hand to record?
  The battle-ship, perfect-model'd, majestic, that I saw pass the
      offing to-day under full sail?
  The splendors of the past day? or the splendor of the night that
      envelops me?
  Or the vaunted glory and growth of the great city spread around me? —no;
  But merely of two simple men I saw to-day on the pier in the midst
      of the crowd, parting the parting of dear friends,
  The one to remain hung on the other's neck and passionately kiss'd him,
  While the one to depart tightly prest the one to remain in his arms.





To the East and to the West

  To the East and to the West,
  To the man of the Seaside State and of Pennsylvania,
  To the Kanadian of the north, to the Southerner I love,
  These with perfect trust to depict you as myself, the germs are in all men,
  I believe the main purport of these States is to found a superb
      friendship, exalte, previously unknown,
  Because I perceive it waits, and has been always waiting, latent in all men.





Sometimes with One I Love

  Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with rage for fear I effuse
      unreturn'd love,
  But now I think there is no unreturn'd love, the pay is certain one
      way or another,
  (I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not return'd,
  Yet out of that I have written these songs.)





To a Western Boy

  Many things to absorb I teach to help you become eleve of mine;
  Yet if blood like mine circle not in your veins,
  If you be not silently selected by lovers and do not silently select lovers,
  Of what use is it that you seek to become eleve of mine?





Fast Anchor'd Eternal O Love!

  Fast-anchor'd eternal O love! O woman I love!
  O bride! O wife! more resistless than I can tell, the thought of you!
  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.





Among the Multitude

  Among the men and women the multitude,
  I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs,
  Acknowledging none else, not parent, wife, husband, brother, child,
      any nearer than I am,
  Some are baffled, but that one is not—that one knows me.

  Ah lover and perfect equal,
  I meant that you should discover me so by faint indirections,
  And I when I meet you mean to discover you by the like in you.





O You Whom I Often and Silently Come

  O you whom I often and silently come where you are that I may be with you,
  As I walk by your side or sit near, or remain in the same room with you,
  Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is
      playing within me.





That Shadow My Likeness

  That shadow my likeness that goes to and fro seeking a livelihood,
      chattering, chaffering,
  How often I find myself standing and looking at it where it flits,
  How often I question and doubt whether that is really me;
  But among my lovers and caroling these songs,
  O I never doubt whether that is really me.





Full of Life Now

  Full of life now, compact, visible,
  I, forty years old the eighty-third year of the States,
  To one a century hence or any number of centuries hence,
  To you yet unborn these, seeking you.

  When you read these I that was visible am become invisible,
  Now it is you, compact, visible, realizing my poems, seeking me,
  Fancying how happy you were if I could be with you and become your comrade;
  Be it as if I were with you. (Be not too certain but I am now with you.)





BOOK VI

Salut au Monde!

       1
  O take my hand Walt Whitman!
  Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds!
  Such join'd unended links, each hook'd to the next,
  Each answering all, each sharing the earth with all.

  What widens within you Walt Whitman?
  What waves and soils exuding?
  What climes? what persons and cities are here?
  Who are the infants, some playing, some slumbering?
  Who are the girls? who are the married women?
  Who are the groups of old men going slowly with their arms about
      each other's necks?
  What rivers are these? what forests and fruits are these?
  What are the mountains call'd that rise so high in the mists?
  What myriads of dwellings are they fill'd with dwellers?

       2
  Within me latitude widens, longitude lengthens,
  Asia, Africa, Europe, are to the east—America is provided for in the west,
  Banding the bulge of the earth winds the hot equator,
  Curiously north and south turn the axis-ends,
  Within me is the longest day, the sun wheels in slanting rings, it
      does not set for months,
  Stretch'd in due time within me the midnight sun just rises above
      the horizon and sinks again,
  Within me zones, seas, cataracts, forests, volcanoes, groups,
  Malaysia, Polynesia, and the great West Indian islands.

       3
  What do you hear Walt Whitman?

  I hear the workman singing and the farmer's wife singing,
  I hear in the distance the sounds of children and of animals early
      in the day,
  I hear emulous shouts of Australians pursuing the wild horse,
  I hear the Spanish dance with castanets in the chestnut shade, to
      the rebeck and guitar,
  I hear continual echoes from the Thames,
  I hear fierce French liberty songs,
  I hear of the Italian boat-sculler the musical recitative of old poems,
  I hear the locusts in Syria as they strike the grain and grass with
      the showers of their terrible clouds,
  I hear the Coptic refrain toward sundown, pensively falling on the
      breast of the black venerable vast mother the Nile,
  I hear the chirp of the Mexican muleteer, and the bells of the mule,
  I hear the Arab muezzin calling from the top of the mosque,
  I hear the Christian priests at the altars of their churches, I hear
      the responsive base and soprano,
  I hear the cry of the Cossack, and the sailor's voice putting to sea
      at Okotsk,
  I hear the wheeze of the slave-coffle as the slaves march on, as the
      husky gangs pass on by twos and threes, fasten'd together
      with wrist-chains and ankle-chains,
  I hear the Hebrew reading his records and psalms,
  I hear the rhythmic myths of the Greeks, and the strong legends of
      the Romans,
  I hear the tale of the divine life and bloody death of the beautiful
      God the Christ,
  I hear the Hindoo teaching his favorite pupil the loves, wars,
      adages, transmitted safely to this day from poets who wrote three
      thousand years ago.

       4
  What do you see Walt Whitman?
  Who are they you salute, and that one after another salute you?
  I see a great round wonder rolling through space,
  I see diminute farms, hamlets, ruins, graveyards, jails, factories,
      palaces, hovels, huts of barbarians, tents of nomads upon the surface,
  I see the shaded part on one side where the sleepers are sleeping,
      and the sunlit part on the other side,
  I see the curious rapid change of the light and shade,
  I see distant lands, as real and near to the inhabitants of them as
      my land is to me.

  I see plenteous waters,
  I see mountain peaks, I see the sierras of Andes where they range,
  I see plainly the Himalayas, Chian Shahs, Altays, Ghauts,
  I see the giant pinnacles of Elbruz, Kazbek, Bazardjusi,
  I see the Styrian Alps, and the Karnac Alps,
  I see the Pyrenees, Balks, Carpathians, and to the north the
      Dofrafields, and off at sea mount Hecla,
  I see Vesuvius and Etna, the mountains of the Moon, and the Red
      mountains of Madagascar,
  I see the Lybian, Arabian, and Asiatic deserts,
  I see huge dreadful Arctic and Antarctic icebergs,
  I see the superior oceans and the inferior ones, the Atlantic and
      Pacific, the sea of Mexico, the Brazilian sea, and the sea of Peru,
  The waters of Hindustan, the China sea, and the gulf of Guinea,
  The Japan waters, the beautiful bay of Nagasaki land-lock'd in its
      mountains,
  The spread of the Baltic, Caspian, Bothnia, the British shores, and
      the bay of Biscay,
  The clear-sunn'd Mediterranean, and from one to another of its islands,
  The White sea, and the sea around Greenland.

  I behold the mariners of the world,
  Some are in storms, some in the night with the watch on the lookout,
  Some drifting helplessly, some with contagious diseases.

  I behold the sail and steamships of the world, some in clusters in
      port, some on their voyages,
  Some double the cape of Storms, some cape Verde, others capes
      Guardafui, Bon, or Bajadore,
  Others Dondra head, others pass the straits of Sunda, others cape
      Lopatka, others Behring's straits,
  Others cape Horn, others sail the gulf of Mexico or along Cuba or
      Hayti, others Hudson's bay or Baffin's bay,
  Others pass the straits of Dover, others enter the Wash, others the
      firth of Solway, others round cape Clear, others the Land's End,
  Others traverse the Zuyder Zee or the Scheld,
  Others as comers and goers at Gibraltar or the Dardanelles,
  Others sternly push their way through the northern winter-packs,
  Others descend or ascend the Obi or the Lena,
  Others the Niger or the Congo, others the Indus, the Burampooter
      and Cambodia,
  Others wait steam'd up ready to start in the ports of Australia,
  Wait at Liverpool, Glasgow, Dublin, Marseilles, Lisbon, Naples,
  Hamburg, Bremen, Bordeaux, the Hague, Copenhagen,
  Wait at Valparaiso, Rio Janeiro, Panama.

       5
  I see the tracks of the railroads of the earth,
  I see them in Great Britain, I see them in Europe,
  I see them in Asia and in Africa.

  I see the electric telegraphs of the earth,
  I see the filaments of the news of the wars, deaths, losses, gains,
      passions, of my race.

  I see the long river-stripes of the earth,
  I see the Amazon and the Paraguay,
  I see the four great rivers of China, the Amour, the Yellow River,
      the Yiang-tse, and the Pearl,
  I see where the Seine flows, and where the Danube, the Loire, the
      Rhone, and the Guadalquiver flow,
  I see the windings of the Volga, the Dnieper, the Oder,
  I see the Tuscan going down the Arno, and the Venetian along the Po,
  I see the Greek seaman sailing out of Egina bay.

       6
  I see the site of the old empire of Assyria, and that of Persia, and
      that of India,
  I see the falling of the Ganges over the high rim of Saukara.

  I see the place of the idea of the Deity incarnated by avatars in
      human forms,
  I see the spots of the successions of priests on the earth, oracles,
      sacrificers, brahmins, sabians, llamas, monks, muftis, exhorters,
  I see where druids walk'd the groves of Mona, I see the mistletoe
      and vervain,
  I see the temples of the deaths of the bodies of Gods, I see the old
      signifiers.

  I see Christ eating the bread of his last supper in the midst of
      youths and old persons,
  I see where the strong divine young man the Hercules toil'd
      faithfully and long and then died,
  I see the place of the innocent rich life and hapless fate of the
      beautiful nocturnal son, the full-limb'd Bacchus,
  I see Kneph, blooming, drest in blue, with the crown of feathers on
      his head,
  I see Hermes, unsuspected, dying, well-belov'd, saying to the people
      Do not weep for me,
  This is not my true country, I have lived banish'd from my true
      country, I now go back there,
  I return to the celestial sphere where every one goes in his turn.

       7
  I see the battle-fields of the earth, grass grows upon them and
      blossoms and corn,
  I see the tracks of ancient and modern expeditions.

  I see the nameless masonries, venerable messages of the unknown
      events, heroes, records of the earth.

  I see the places of the sagas,
  I see pine-trees and fir-trees torn by northern blasts,
  I see granite bowlders and cliffs, I see green meadows and lakes,
  I see the burial-cairns of Scandinavian warriors,
  I see them raised high with stones by the marge of restless oceans,
      that the dead men's spirits when they wearied of their quiet
      graves might rise up through the mounds and gaze on the tossing
      billows, and be refresh'd by storms, immensity, liberty, action.

  I see the steppes of Asia,
  I see the tumuli of Mongolia, I see the tents of Kalmucks and Baskirs,
  I see the nomadic tribes with herds of oxen and cows,
  I see the table-lands notch'd with ravines, I see the jungles and deserts,
  I see the camel, the wild steed, the bustard, the fat-tail'd sheep,
      the antelope, and the burrowing wolf

  I see the highlands of Abyssinia,
  I see flocks of goats feeding, and see the fig-tree, tamarind, date,
  And see fields of teff-wheat and places of verdure and gold.

  I see the Brazilian vaquero,
  I see the Bolivian ascending mount Sorata,
  I see the Wacho crossing the plains, I see the incomparable rider of
      horses with his lasso on his arm,
  I see over the pampas the pursuit of wild cattle for their hides.

       8
  I see the regions of snow and ice,
  I see the sharp-eyed Samoiede and the Finn,
  I see the seal-seeker in his boat poising his lance,
  I see the Siberian on his slight-built sledge drawn by dogs,
  I see the porpoise-hunters, I see the whale-crews of the south
      Pacific and the north Atlantic,
  I see the cliffs, glaciers, torrents, valleys, of Switzerland—I
      mark the long winters and the isolation.

  I see the cities of the earth and make myself at random a part of them,
  I am a real Parisian,
  I am a habitan of Vienna, St. Petersburg, Berlin, Constantinople,
  I am of Adelaide, Sidney, Melbourne,
  I am of London, Manchester, Bristol, Edinburgh, Limerick,
  I am of Madrid, Cadiz, Barcelona, Oporto, Lyons, Brussels, Berne,
      Frankfort, Stuttgart, Turin, Florence,
  I belong in Moscow, Cracow, Warsaw, or northward in Christiania or
      Stockholm, or in Siberian Irkutsk, or in some street in Iceland,
  I descend upon all those cities, and rise from them again.

       10
  I see vapors exhaling from unexplored countries,
  I see the savage types, the bow and arrow, the poison'd splint, the
      fetich, and the obi.
  I see African and Asiatic towns,
  I see Algiers, Tripoli, Derne, Mogadore, Timbuctoo, Monrovia,
  I see the swarms of Pekin, Canton, Benares, Delhi, Calcutta, Tokio,
  I see the Kruman in his hut, and the Dahoman and Ashantee-man in their huts,
  I see the Turk smoking opium in Aleppo,
  I see the picturesque crowds at the fairs of Khiva and those of Herat,
  I see Teheran, I see Muscat and Medina and the intervening sands,
      see the caravans toiling onward,
  I see Egypt and the Egyptians, I see the pyramids and obelisks.
  I look on chisell'd histories, records of conquering kings,
      dynasties, cut in slabs of sand-stone, or on granite-blocks,
  I see at Memphis mummy-pits containing mummies embalm'd,
      swathed in linen cloth, lying there many centuries,
  I look on the fall'n Theban, the large-ball'd eyes, the
      side-drooping neck, the hands folded across the breast.

  I see all the menials of the earth, laboring,
  I see all the prisoners in the prisons,
  I see the defective human bodies of the earth,
  The blind, the deaf and dumb, idiots, hunchbacks, lunatics,
  The pirates, thieves, betrayers, murderers, slave-makers of the earth,
  The helpless infants, and the helpless old men and women.

  I see male and female everywhere,
  I see the serene brotherhood of philosophs,
  I see the constructiveness of my race,
  I see the results of the perseverance and industry of my race,
  I see ranks, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, I go among them, I
      mix indiscriminately,
  And I salute all the inhabitants of the earth.

       11
  You whoever you are!
  You daughter or son of England!
  You of the mighty Slavic tribes and empires! you Russ in Russia!
  You dim-descended, black, divine-soul'd African, large, fine-headed,
      nobly-form'd, superbly destin'd, on equal terms with me!
  You Norwegian! Swede! Dane! Icelander! you Prussian!
  You Spaniard of Spain! you Portuguese!
  You Frenchwoman and Frenchman of France!
  You Belge! you liberty-lover of the Netherlands! (you stock whence I
      myself have descended;)
  You sturdy Austrian! you Lombard! Hun! Bohemian! farmer of Styria!
  You neighbor of the Danube!
  You working-man of the Rhine, the Elbe, or the Weser! you working-woman too!
  You Sardinian! you Bavarian! Swabian! Saxon! Wallachian! Bulgarian!
  You Roman! Neapolitan! you Greek!
  You lithe matador in the arena at Seville!
  You mountaineer living lawlessly on the Taurus or Caucasus!
  You Bokh horse-herd watching your mares and stallions feeding!
  You beautiful-bodied Persian at full speed in the saddle shooting
      arrows to the mark!
  You Chinaman and Chinawoman of China! you Tartar of Tartary!
  You women of the earth subordinated at your tasks!
  You Jew journeying in your old age through every risk to stand once
      on Syrian ground!
  You other Jews waiting in all lands for your Messiah!
  You thoughtful Armenian pondering by some stream of the Euphrates!
      you peering amid the ruins of Nineveh! you ascending mount Ararat!
  You foot-worn pilgrim welcoming the far-away sparkle of the minarets
      of Mecca!
  You sheiks along the stretch from Suez to Bab-el-mandeb ruling your
      families and tribes!
  You olive-grower tending your fruit on fields of Nazareth, Damascus,
      or lake Tiberias!
  You Thibet trader on the wide inland or bargaining in the shops of Lassa!
  You Japanese man or woman! you liver in Madagascar, Ceylon, Sumatra, Borneo!
  All you continentals of Asia, Africa, Europe, Australia, indifferent
      of place!
  All you on the numberless islands of the archipelagoes of the sea!
  And you of centuries hence when you listen to me!
  And you each and everywhere whom I specify not, but include just the same!
  Health to you! good will to you all, from me and America sent!

  Each of us inevitable,
  Each of us limitless—each of us with his or her right upon the earth,
  Each of us allow'd the eternal purports of the earth,
  Each of us here as divinely as any is here.

       12
  You Hottentot with clicking palate! you woolly-hair'd hordes!
  You own'd persons dropping sweat-drops or blood-drops!
  You human forms with the fathomless ever-impressive countenances of brutes!
  You poor koboo whom the meanest of the rest look down upon for all
      your glimmering language and spirituality!
  You dwarf'd Kamtschatkan, Greenlander, Lapp!
  You Austral negro, naked, red, sooty, with protrusive lip,
      groveling, seeking your food!
  You Caffre, Berber, Soudanese!
  You haggard, uncouth, untutor'd Bedowee!
  You plague-swarms in Madras, Nankin, Kaubul, Cairo!
  You benighted roamer of Amazonia! you Patagonian! you Feejeeman!
  I do not prefer others so very much before you either,
  I do not say one word against you, away back there where you stand,
  (You will come forward in due time to my side.)

       13
  My spirit has pass'd in compassion and determination around the whole earth,
  I have look'd for equals and lovers and found them ready for me in
      all lands,
  I think some divine rapport has equalized me with them.

  You vapors, I think I have risen with you, moved away to distant
      continents, and fallen down there, for reasons,
  I think I have blown with you you winds;
  You waters I have finger'd every shore with you,
  I have run through what any river or strait of the globe has run through,
  I have taken my stand on the bases of peninsulas and on the high
      embedded rocks, to cry thence:

  What cities the light or warmth penetrates I penetrate those cities myself,
  All islands to which birds wing their way I wing my way myself.

  Toward you all, in America's name,
  I raise high the perpendicular hand, I make the signal,
  To remain after me in sight forever,
  For all the haunts and homes of men.





BOOK VII

Song of the Open Road

       1
  Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
  Healthy, free, the world before me,
  The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

  Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
  Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
  Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
  Strong and content I travel the open road.

  The earth, that is sufficient,
  I do not want the constellations any nearer,
  I know they are very well where they are,
  I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

  (Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
  I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
  I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
  I am fill'd with them, and I will fill them in return.)

       2
  You road I enter upon and look around, I believe you are not all
      that is here,
  I believe that much unseen is also here.

  Here the profound lesson of reception, nor preference nor denial,
  The black with his woolly head, the felon, the diseas'd, the
      illiterate person, are not denied;
  The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar's tramp, the
      drunkard's stagger, the laughing party of mechanics,
  The escaped youth, the rich person's carriage, the fop, the eloping couple,
  The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of furniture into the
      town, the return back from the town,
  They pass, I also pass, any thing passes, none can be interdicted,
  None but are accepted, none but shall be dear to me.

       3
  You air that serves me with breath to speak!
  You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them shape!
  You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!
  You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides!
  I believe you are latent with unseen existences, you are so dear to me.

  You flagg'd walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges!
  You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined
      side! you distant ships!
  You rows of houses! you window-pierc'd facades! you roofs!
  You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards!
  You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much!
  You doors and ascending steps! you arches!
  You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings!
  From all that has touch'd you I believe you have imparted to
      yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me,
  From the living and the dead you have peopled your impassive surfaces,
      and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable with me.

       4
  The earth expanding right hand and left hand,
  The picture alive, every part in its best light,
  The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is
      not wanted,
  The cheerful voice of the public road, the gay fresh sentiment of the road.

  O highway I travel, do you say to me Do not leave me?
  Do you say Venture not—if you leave me you are lost?
  Do you say I am already prepared, I am well-beaten and undenied,
      adhere to me?

  O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love you,
  You express me better than I can express myself,
  You shall be more to me than my poem.

  I think heroic deeds were all conceiv'd in the open air, and all
      free poems also,
  I think I could stop here myself and do miracles,
  I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever
      beholds me shall like me,
  I think whoever I see must be happy.

       5
  From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines,
  Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,
  Listening to others, considering well what they say,
  Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
  Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that
      would hold me.

  I inhale great draughts of space,
  The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.

  I am larger, better than I thought,
  I did not know I held so much goodness.

  All seems beautiful to me,
  can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to me
      I would do the same to you,
  I will recruit for myself and you as I go,
  I will scatter myself among men and women as I go,
  I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them,
  Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me,
  Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me.

       6
  Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear it would not amaze me,
  Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear'd it would not
      astonish me.

  Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons,
  It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.

  Here a great personal deed has room,
  (Such a deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men,
  Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law and mocks all
      authority and all argument against it.)

  Here is the test of wisdom,
  Wisdom is not finally tested in schools,
  Wisdom cannot be pass'd from one having it to another not having it,
  Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof,
  Applies to all stages and objects and qualities and is content,
  Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the
      excellence of things;
  Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes
      it out of the soul.

  Now I re-examine philosophies and religions,
  They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the
      spacious clouds and along the landscape and flowing currents.

  Here is realization,
  Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he has in him,
  The past, the future, majesty, love—if they are vacant of you, you
      are vacant of them.

  Only the kernel of every object nourishes;
  Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me?
  Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me?

  Here is adhesiveness, it is not previously fashion'd, it is apropos;
  Do you know what it is as you pass to be loved by strangers?
  Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls?

       7
  Here is the efflux of the soul,
  The efflux of the soul comes from within through embower'd gates,
      ever provoking questions,
  These yearnings why are they? these thoughts in the darkness why are they?
  Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sunlight
      expands my blood?
  Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?
  Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious
      thoughts descend upon me?
  (I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees and always
      drop fruit as I pass;)
  What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers?
  What with some driver as I ride on the seat by his side?
  What with some fisherman drawing his seine by the shore as I walk by
      and pause?
  What gives me to be free to a woman's and man's good-will? what
      gives them to be free to mine?

       8
  The efflux of the soul is happiness, here is happiness,
  I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times,
  Now it flows unto us, we are rightly charged.

  Here rises the fluid and attaching character,
  The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness of
      man and woman,
  (The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every day
      out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet
      continually out of itself.)

  Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the
      love of young and old,
  From it falls distill'd the charm that mocks beauty and attainments,
  Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact.

       9
  Allons! whoever you are come travel with me!
  Traveling with me you find what never tires.

  The earth never tires,
  The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude
      and incomprehensible at first,
  Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop'd,
  I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.

  Allons! we must not stop here,
  However sweet these laid-up stores, however convenient this dwelling
      we cannot remain here,
  However shelter'd this port and however calm these waters we must
      not anchor here,
  However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us we are permitted
      to receive it but a little while.

       10
  Allons! the inducements shall be greater,
  We will sail pathless and wild seas,
  We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the Yankee clipper
      speeds by under full sail.

  Allons! with power, liberty, the earth, the elements,
  Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity;
  Allons! from all formules!
  From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic priests.

  The stale cadaver blocks up the passage—the burial waits no longer.

  Allons! yet take warning!
  He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews, endurance,
  None may come to the trial till he or she bring courage and health,
  Come not here if you have already spent the best of yourself,
  Only those may come who come in sweet and determin'd bodies,
  No diseas'd person, no rum-drinker or venereal taint is permitted here.

  (I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes,
  We convince by our presence.)

       11
  Listen! I will be honest with you,
  I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes,
  These are the days that must happen to you:
  You shall not heap up what is call'd riches,
  You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve,
  You but arrive at the city to which you were destin'd, you hardly
      settle yourself to satisfaction before you are call'd by an
      irresistible call to depart,
  You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those
      who remain behind you,
  What beckonings of love you receive you shall only answer with
      passionate kisses of parting,
  You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach'd hands
      toward you.

       12
  Allons! after the great Companions, and to belong to them!
  They too are on the road—they are the swift and majestic men—they
      are the greatest women,
  Enjoyers of calms of seas and storms of seas,
  Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land,
  Habitues of many distant countries, habitues of far-distant dwellings,
  Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers,
  Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore,
  Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of
      children, bearers of children,
  Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers-down of coffins,
  Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years, the curious
      years each emerging from that which preceded it,
  Journeyers as with companions, namely their own diverse phases,
  Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days,
  Journeyers gayly with their own youth, journeyers with their bearded
      and well-grain'd manhood,
  Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass'd, content,
  Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood,
  Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe,
  Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.

       13
  Allons! to that which is endless as it was beginningless,
  To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights,
  To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days and nights
      they tend to,
  Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys,
  To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it,
  To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it and pass it,
  To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you,
      however long but it stretches and waits for you,
  To see no being, not God's or any, but you also go thither,
  To see no possession but you may possess it, enjoying all without
      labor or purchase, abstracting the feast yet not abstracting one
      particle of it,
  To take the best of the farmer's farm and the rich man's elegant
      villa, and the chaste blessings of the well-married couple, and
      the fruits of orchards and flowers of gardens,
  To take to your use out of the compact cities as you pass through,
  To carry buildings and streets with you afterward wherever you go,
  To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you encounter
      them, to gather the love out of their hearts,
  To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave
      them behind you,
  To know the universe itself as a road, as many roads, as roads for
      traveling souls.

  All parts away for the progress of souls,
  All religion, all solid things, arts, governments—all that was or is
      apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and corners
      before the procession of souls along the grand roads of the universe.

  Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads of
      the universe, all other progress is the needed emblem and sustenance.

  Forever alive, forever forward,
  Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble,
      dissatisfied,
  Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men,
  They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go,
  But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great.

  Whoever you are, come forth! or man or woman come forth!
  You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though
      you built it, or though it has been built for you.

  Out of the dark confinement! out from behind the screen!
  It is useless to protest, I know all and expose it.

  Behold through you as bad as the rest,
  Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people,
  Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash'd and trimm'd faces,
  Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.

  No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession,
  Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes,
  Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and
      bland in the parlors,
  In the cars of railroads, in steamboats, in the public assembly,
  Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bedroom,
      everywhere,
  Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the
      breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones,
  Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers,
  Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself,
  Speaking of any thing else but never of itself.

       14
  Allons! through struggles and wars!
  The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.

  Have the past struggles succeeded?
  What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? Nature?
  Now understand me well—it is provided in the essence of things that
      from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth
      something to make a greater struggle necessary.

  My call is the call of battle, I nourish active rebellion,
  He going with me must go well arm'd,
  He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies,
      desertions.

       15
  Allons! the road is before us!
  It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well—be not
      detain'd!
  Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the
      shelf unopen'd!
  Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn'd!
  Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!
  Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the
      court, and the judge expound the law.

  Camerado, I give you my hand!
  I give you my love more precious than money,
  I give you myself before preaching or law;
  Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?
  Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

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BOOK VIII
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