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1. BOOK XXXII. FROM NOON TO STARRY NIGHT
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1.1. Thou Orb Aloft Full-Dazzling
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Thou orb aloft full-dazzling! thou hot October noon!
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Flooding with sheeny light the gray beach sand,
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The sibilant near sea with vistas far and foam,
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And tawny streaks and shades and spreading blue;
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O sun of noon refulgent! my special word to thee.
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Hear me illustrious!
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Thy lover me, for always I have loved thee,
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Even as basking babe, then happy boy alone by some wood edge, thy
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touching-distant beams enough,
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Or man matured, or young or old, as now to thee I launch my invocation.
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(Thou canst not with thy dumbness me deceive,
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I know before the fitting man all Nature yields,
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Though answering not in words, the skies, trees, hear his voice—and
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thou O sun,
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As for thy throes, thy perturbations, sudden breaks and shafts of
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flame gigantic,
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I understand them, I know those flames, those perturbations well.)
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Thou that with fructifying heat and light,
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O'er myriad farms, o'er lands and waters North and South,
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O'er Mississippi's endless course, o'er Texas' grassy plains,
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Kanada's woods,
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O'er all the globe that turns its face to thee shining in space,
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Thou that impartially enfoldest all, not only continents, seas,
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Thou that to grapes and weeds and little wild flowers givest so liberally,
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Shed, shed thyself on mine and me, with but a fleeting ray out of
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thy million millions,
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Strike through these chants.
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Nor only launch thy subtle dazzle and thy strength for these,
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Prepare the later afternoon of me myself—prepare my lengthening shadows,
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Prepare my starry nights.
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1.2. Faces
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1.2.1. 1
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Sauntering the pavement or riding the country by-road, faces!
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Faces of friendship, precision, caution, suavity, ideality,
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The spiritual-prescient face, the always welcome common benevolent face,
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The face of the singing of music, the grand faces of natural lawyers
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and judges broad at the back-top,
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The faces of hunters and fishers bulged at the brows, the shaved
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blanch'd faces of orthodox citizens,
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The pure, extravagant, yearning, questioning artist's face,
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The ugly face of some beautiful soul, the handsome detested or
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despised face,
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The sacred faces of infants, the illuminated face of the mother of
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many children,
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The face of an amour, the face of veneration,
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The face as of a dream, the face of an immobile rock,
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The face withdrawn of its good and bad, a castrated face,
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A wild hawk, his wings clipp'd by the clipper,
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A stallion that yielded at last to the thongs and knife of the gelder.
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Sauntering the pavement thus, or crossing the ceaseless ferry, faces
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and faces and faces,
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I see them and complain not, and am content with all.
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1.2.2. 2
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Do you suppose I could be content with all if I thought them their
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own finale?
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This now is too lamentable a face for a man,
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Some abject louse asking leave to be, cringing for it,
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Some milk-nosed maggot blessing what lets it wrig to its hole.
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This face is a dog's snout sniffing for garbage,
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Snakes nest in that mouth, I hear the sibilant threat.
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This face is a haze more chill than the arctic sea,
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Its sleepy and wobbling icebergs crunch as they go.
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This is a face of bitter herbs, this an emetic, they need no label,
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And more of the drug-shelf, laudanum, caoutchouc, or hog's-lard.
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This face is an epilepsy, its wordless tongue gives out the unearthly cry,
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Its veins down the neck distend, its eyes roll till they show
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nothing but their whites,
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Its teeth grit, the palms of the hands are cut by the turn'd-in nails,
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The man falls struggling and foaming to the ground, while he
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speculates well.
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This face is bitten by vermin and worms,
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And this is some murderer's knife with a half-pull'd scabbard.
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This face owes to the sexton his dismalest fee,
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An unceasing death-bell tolls there.
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1.2.3. 3
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Features of my equals would you trick me with your creas'd and
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cadaverous march?
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Well, you cannot trick me.
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I see your rounded never-erased flow,
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I see 'neath the rims of your haggard and mean disguises.
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Splay and twist as you like, poke with the tangling fores of fishes or rats,
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You'll be unmuzzled, you certainly will.
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I saw the face of the most smear'd and slobbering idiot they had at
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the asylum,
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And I knew for my consolation what they knew not,
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I knew of the agents that emptied and broke my brother,
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The same wait to clear the rubbish from the fallen tenement,
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And I shall look again in a score or two of ages,
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And I shall meet the real landlord perfect and unharm'd, every inch
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as good as myself.
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1.2.4. 4
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The Lord advances, and yet advances,
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Always the shadow in front, always the reach'd hand bringing up the
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laggards.
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Out of this face emerge banners and horses—O superb! I see what is coming,
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I see the high pioneer-caps, see staves of runners clearing the way,
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I hear victorious drums.
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This face is a life-boat,
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This is the face commanding and bearded, it asks no odds of the rest,
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This face is flavor'd fruit ready for eating,
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This face of a healthy honest boy is the programme of all good.
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These faces bear testimony slumbering or awake,
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They show their descent from the Master himself.
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Off the word I have spoken I except not one—red, white, black, are
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all deific,
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In each house is the ovum, it comes forth after a thousand years.
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Spots or cracks at the windows do not disturb me,
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Tall and sufficient stand behind and make signs to me,
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I read the promise and patiently wait.
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This is a full-grown lily's face,
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She speaks to the limber-hipp'd man near the garden pickets,
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Come here she blushingly cries, Come nigh to me limber-hipp'd man,
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Stand at my side till I lean as high as I can upon you,
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Fill me with albescent honey, bend down to me,
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Rub to me with your chafing beard, rub to my breast and shoulders.
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1.2.5. 5
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The old face of the mother of many children,
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Whist! I am fully content.
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Lull'd and late is the smoke of the First-day morning,
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It hangs low over the rows of trees by the fences,
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It hangs thin by the sassafras and wild-cherry and cat-brier under them.
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I saw the rich ladies in full dress at the soiree,
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I heard what the singers were singing so long,
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Heard who sprang in crimson youth from the white froth and the water-blue.
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Behold a woman!
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She looks out from her quaker cap, her face is clearer and more
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beautiful than the sky.
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She sits in an armchair under the shaded porch of the farmhouse,
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The sun just shines on her old white head.
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Her ample gown is of cream-hued linen,
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Her grandsons raised the flax, and her grand-daughters spun it with
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the distaff and the wheel.
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The melodious character of the earth,
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The finish beyond which philosophy cannot go and does not wish to go,
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The justified mother of men.
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1.3. The Mystic Trumpeter
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1.3.1. 1
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Hark, some wild trumpeter, some strange musician,
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Hovering unseen in air, vibrates capricious tunes to-night.
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I hear thee trumpeter, listening alert I catch thy notes,
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Now pouring, whirling like a tempest round me,
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Now low, subdued, now in the distance lost.
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1.3.2. 2
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Come nearer bodiless one, haply in thee resounds
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Some dead composer, haply thy pensive life
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Was fill'd with aspirations high, unform'd ideals,
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Waves, oceans musical, chaotically surging,
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That now ecstatic ghost, close to me bending, thy cornet echoing, pealing,
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Gives out to no one's ears but mine, but freely gives to mine,
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That I may thee translate.
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1.3.3. 3
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Blow trumpeter free and clear, I follow thee,
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While at thy liquid prelude, glad, serene,
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The fretting world, the streets, the noisy hours of day withdraw,
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A holy calm descends like dew upon me,
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I walk in cool refreshing night the walks of Paradise,
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I scent the grass, the moist air and the roses;
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Thy song expands my numb'd imbonded spirit, thou freest, launchest me,
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Floating and basking upon heaven's lake.
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1.3.4. 4
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Blow again trumpeter! and for my sensuous eyes,
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Bring the old pageants, show the feudal world.
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What charm thy music works! thou makest pass before me,
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Ladies and cavaliers long dead, barons are in their castle halls,
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the troubadours are singing,
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Arm'd knights go forth to redress wrongs, some in quest of the holy Graal;
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I see the tournament, I see the contestants incased in heavy armor
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seated on stately champing horses,
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I hear the shouts, the sounds of blows and smiting steel;
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I see the Crusaders' tumultuous armies—hark, how the cymbals clang,
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Lo, where the monks walk in advance, bearing the cross on high.
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1.3.5. 5
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Blow again trumpeter! and for thy theme,
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Take now the enclosing theme of all, the solvent and the setting,
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Love, that is pulse of all, the sustenance and the pang,
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The heart of man and woman all for love,
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No other theme but love—knitting, enclosing, all-diffusing love.
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O how the immortal phantoms crowd around me!
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I see the vast alembic ever working, I see and know the flames that
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heat the world,
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The glow, the blush, the beating hearts of lovers,
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So blissful happy some, and some so silent, dark, and nigh to death;
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Love, that is all the earth to lovers—love, that mocks time and space,
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Love, that is day and night—love, that is sun and moon and stars,
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Love, that is crimson, sumptuous, sick with perfume,
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No other words but words of love, no other thought but love.
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1.3.6. 6
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Blow again trumpeter—conjure war's alarums.
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Swift to thy spell a shuddering hum like distant thunder rolls,
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Lo, where the arm'd men hasten—lo, mid the clouds of dust the glint
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of bayonets,
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I see the grime-faced cannoneers, I mark the rosy flash amid the
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smoke, I hear the cracking of the guns;
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Nor war alone—thy fearful music-song, wild player, brings every
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sight of fear,
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The deeds of ruthless brigands, rapine, murder—I hear the cries for help!
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I see ships foundering at sea, I behold on deck and below deck the
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terrible tableaus.
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1.3.7. 7
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O trumpeter, methinks I am myself the instrument thou playest,
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Thou melt'st my heart, my brain—thou movest, drawest, changest
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them at will;
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And now thy sullen notes send darkness through me,
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Thou takest away all cheering light, all hope,
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I see the enslaved, the overthrown, the hurt, the opprest of the
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whole earth,
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I feel the measureless shame and humiliation of my race, it becomes
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all mine,
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Mine too the revenges of humanity, the wrongs of ages, baffled feuds
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and hatreds,
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Utter defeat upon me weighs—all lost—the foe victorious,
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(Yet 'mid the ruins Pride colossal stands unshaken to the last,
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Endurance, resolution to the last.)
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Now trumpeter for thy close,
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Vouchsafe a higher strain than any yet,
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Sing to my soul, renew its languishing faith and hope,
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Rouse up my slow belief, give me some vision of the future,
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Give me for once its prophecy and joy.
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O glad, exulting, culminating song!
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A vigor more than earth's is in thy notes,
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Marches of victory—man disenthral'd—the conqueror at last,
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Hymns to the universal God from universal man—all joy!
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A reborn race appears—a perfect world, all joy!
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Women and men in wisdom innocence and health—all joy!
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Riotous laughing bacchanals fill'd with joy!
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War, sorrow, suffering gone—the rank earth purged—nothing but joy left!
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The ocean fill'd with joy—the atmosphere all joy!
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Joy! joy! in freedom, worship, love! joy in the ecstasy of life!
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Enough to merely be! enough to breathe!
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Joy! joy! all over joy!
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To a Locomotive in Winter
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Thee for my recitative,
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Thee in the driving storm even as now, the snow, the winter-day declining,
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Thee in thy panoply, thy measur'd dual throbbing and thy beat convulsive,
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Thy black cylindric body, golden brass and silvery steel,
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Thy ponderous side-bars, parallel and connecting rods, gyrating,
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shuttling at thy sides,
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Thy metrical, now swelling pant and roar, now tapering in the distance,
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Thy great protruding head-light fix'd in front,
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Thy long, pale, floating vapor-pennants, tinged with delicate purple,
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The dense and murky clouds out-belching from thy smoke-stack,
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Thy knitted frame, thy springs and valves, the tremulous twinkle of
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thy wheels,
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Thy train of cars behind, obedient, merrily following,
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46
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Through gale or calm, now swift, now slack, yet steadily careering;
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47
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Type of the modern—emblem of motion and power—pulse of the continent,
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48
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For once come serve the Muse and merge in verse, even as here I see thee,
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49
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With storm and buffeting gusts of wind and falling snow,
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50
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By day thy warning ringing bell to sound its notes,
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51
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By night thy silent signal lamps to swing.
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52
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Fierce-throated beauty!
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53
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Roll through my chant with all thy lawless music, thy swinging lamps
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54
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at night,
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55
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Thy madly-whistled laughter, echoing, rumbling like an earthquake,
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56
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rousing all,
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57
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Law of thyself complete, thine own track firmly holding,
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58
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(No sweetness debonair of tearful harp or glib piano thine,)
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59
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Thy trills of shrieks by rocks and hills return'd,
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60
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Launch'd o'er the prairies wide, across the lakes,
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61
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To the free skies unpent and glad and strong.
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62
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O Magnet-South
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63
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O magnet-south! O glistening perfumed South! my South!
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64
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O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse and love! good and evil! O all
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65
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dear to me!
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66
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O dear to me my birth-things—all moving things and the trees where
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67
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I was born—the grains, plants, rivers,
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68
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Dear to me my own slow sluggish rivers where they flow, distant,
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69
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over flats of slivery sands or through swamps,
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70
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Dear to me the Roanoke, the Savannah, the Altamahaw, the Pedee, the
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71
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Tombigbee, the Santee, the Coosa and the Sabine,
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72
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O pensive, far away wandering, I return with my soul to haunt their
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73
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banks again,
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74
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Again in Florida I float on transparent lakes, I float on the
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75
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Okeechobee, I cross the hummock-land or through pleasant openings
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76
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or dense forests,
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77
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I see the parrots in the woods, I see the papaw-tree and the
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78
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blossoming titi;
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79
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Again, sailing in my coaster on deck, I coast off Georgia, I coast
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80
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up the Carolinas,
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81
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I see where the live-oak is growing, I see where the yellow-pine,
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82
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the scented bay-tree, the lemon and orange, the cypress, the
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83
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graceful palmetto,
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84
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I pass rude sea-headlands and enter Pamlico sound through an inlet,
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85
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and dart my vision inland;
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86
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O the cotton plant! the growing fields of rice, sugar, hemp!
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87
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The cactus guarded with thorns, the laurel-tree with large white flowers,
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88
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The range afar, the richness and barrenness, the old woods charged
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89
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with mistletoe and trailing moss,
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90
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The piney odor and the gloom, the awful natural stillness, (here in
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91
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these dense swamps the freebooter carries his gun, and the
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92
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fugitive has his conceal'd hut;)
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93
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O the strange fascination of these half-known half-impassable
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94
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swamps, infested by reptiles, resounding with the bellow of the
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95
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alligator, the sad noises of the night-owl and the wild-cat, and
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96
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the whirr of the rattlesnake,
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97
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The mocking-bird, the American mimic, singing all the forenoon,
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98
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singing through the moon-lit night,
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99
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The humming-bird, the wild turkey, the raccoon, the opossum;
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100
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A Kentucky corn-field, the tall, graceful, long-leav'd corn,
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101
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slender, flapping, bright green, with tassels, with beautiful
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102
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ears each well-sheath'd in its husk;
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103
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O my heart! O tender and fierce pangs, I can stand them not, I will depart;
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104
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O to be a Virginian where I grew up! O to be a Carolinian!
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105
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O longings irrepressible! O I will go back to old Tennessee and
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106
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never wander more.
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107
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Mannahatta
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108
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I was asking for something specific and perfect for my city,
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109
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Whereupon lo! upsprang the aboriginal name.
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110
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Now I see what there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly,
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111
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musical, self-sufficient,
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112
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I see that the word of my city is that word from of old,
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113
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Because I see that word nested in nests of water-bays, superb,
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114
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Rich, hemm'd thick all around with sailships and steamships, an
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115
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island sixteen miles long, solid-founded,
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116
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Numberless crowded streets, high growths of iron, slender, strong,
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117
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light, splendidly uprising toward clear skies,
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118
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Tides swift and ample, well-loved by me, toward sundown,
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119
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The flowing sea-currents, the little islands, larger adjoining
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120
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islands, the heights, the villas,
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121
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The countless masts, the white shore-steamers, the lighters, the
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122
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ferry-boats, the black sea-steamers well-model'd,
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123
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The down-town streets, the jobbers' houses of business, the houses
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124
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of business of the ship-merchants and money-brokers, the river-streets,
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125
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Immigrants arriving, fifteen or twenty thousand in a week,
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126
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The carts hauling goods, the manly race of drivers of horses, the
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127
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brown-faced sailors,
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128
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The summer air, the bright sun shining, and the sailing clouds aloft,
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129
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The winter snows, the sleigh-bells, the broken ice in the river,
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130
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passing along up or down with the flood-tide or ebb-tide,
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131
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The mechanics of the city, the masters, well-form'd,
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132
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beautiful-faced, looking you straight in the eyes,
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133
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Trottoirs throng'd, vehicles, Broadway, the women, the shops and shows,
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134
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A million people—manners free and superb—open voices—hospitality—
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135
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the most courageous and friendly young men,
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136
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City of hurried and sparkling waters! city of spires and masts!
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137
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City nested in bays! my city!
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138
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All Is Truth
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139
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O me, man of slack faith so long,
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140
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Standing aloof, denying portions so long,
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141
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Only aware to-day of compact all-diffused truth,
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142
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Discovering to-day there is no lie or form of lie, and can be none,
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143
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but grows as inevitably upon itself as the truth does upon itself,
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144
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Or as any law of the earth or any natural production of the earth does.
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|
145
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(This is curious and may not be realized immediately, but it must be
|
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146
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realized,
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147
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I feel in myself that I represent falsehoods equally with the rest,
|
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148
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And that the universe does.)
|
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|
149
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Where has fail'd a perfect return indifferent of lies or the truth?
|
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150
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Is it upon the ground, or in water or fire? or in the spirit of man?
|
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151
|
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or in the meat and blood?
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| |
|
152
|
|
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Meditating among liars and retreating sternly into myself, I see
|
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153
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that there are really no liars or lies after all,
|
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154
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And that nothing fails its perfect return, and that what are called
|
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155
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lies are perfect returns,
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156
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And that each thing exactly represents itself and what has preceded it,
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157
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And that the truth includes all, and is compact just as much as
|
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158
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space is compact,
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159
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And that there is no flaw or vacuum in the amount of the truth—but
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160
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that all is truth without exception;
|
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161
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And henceforth I will go celebrate any thing I see or am,
|
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162
|
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And sing and laugh and deny nothing.
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|
163
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A Riddle Song
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164
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That which eludes this verse and any verse,
|
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165
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Unheard by sharpest ear, unform'd in clearest eye or cunningest mind,
|
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166
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Nor lore nor fame, nor happiness nor wealth,
|
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167
|
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And yet the pulse of every heart and life throughout the world incessantly,
|
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168
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Which you and I and all pursuing ever ever miss,
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169
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Open but still a secret, the real of the real, an illusion,
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170
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Costless, vouchsafed to each, yet never man the owner,
|
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171
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Which poets vainly seek to put in rhyme, historians in prose,
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172
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Which sculptor never chisel'd yet, nor painter painted,
|
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173
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Which vocalist never sung, nor orator nor actor ever utter'd,
|
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174
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|
|
Invoking here and now I challenge for my song.
|
| |
|
175
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Indifferently, 'mid public, private haunts, in solitude,
|
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176
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Behind the mountain and the wood,
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177
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Companion of the city's busiest streets, through the assemblage,
|
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178
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It and its radiations constantly glide.
|
| |
|
179
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In looks of fair unconscious babes,
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180
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Or strangely in the coffin'd dead,
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181
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Or show of breaking dawn or stars by night,
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182
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As some dissolving delicate film of dreams,
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183
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Hiding yet lingering.
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| |
|
184
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|
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Two little breaths of words comprising it,
|
|
185
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Two words, yet all from first to last comprised in it.
|
| |
|
186
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How ardently for it!
|
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187
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How many ships have sail'd and sunk for it!
|
| |
|
188
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|
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How many travelers started from their homes and neer return'd!
|
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189
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How much of genius boldly staked and lost for it!
|
|
190
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What countless stores of beauty, love, ventur'd for it!
|
|
191
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How all superbest deeds since Time began are traceable to it—and
|
|
192
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|
|
shall be to the end!
|
|
193
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|
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How all heroic martyrdoms to it!
|
|
194
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|
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How, justified by it, the horrors, evils, battles of the earth!
|
|
195
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|
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How the bright fascinating lambent flames of it, in every age and
|
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196
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land, have drawn men's eyes,
|
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197
|
|
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Rich as a sunset on the Norway coast, the sky, the islands, and the cliffs,
|
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198
|
|
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Or midnight's silent glowing northern lights unreachable.
|
| |
|
199
|
|
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Haply God's riddle it, so vague and yet so certain,
|
|
200
|
|
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The soul for it, and all the visible universe for it,
|
|
201
|
|
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And heaven at last for it.
|
| |
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| |
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|
202
|
|
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Excelsior
|
|
203
|
|
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Who has gone farthest? for I would go farther,
|
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204
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And who has been just? for I would be the most just person of the earth,
|
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205
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|
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And who most cautious? for I would be more cautious,
|
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206
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|
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And who has been happiest? O I think it is I—I think no one was
|
|
207
|
|
|
ever happier than I,
|
|
208
|
|
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And who has lavish'd all? for I lavish constantly the best I have,
|
|
209
|
|
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And who proudest? for I think I have reason to be the proudest son
|
|
210
|
|
|
alive—for I am the son of the brawny and tall-topt city,
|
|
211
|
|
|
And who has been bold and true? for I would be the boldest and
|
|
212
|
|
|
truest being of the universe,
|
|
213
|
|
|
And who benevolent? for I would show more benevolence than all the rest,
|
|
214
|
|
|
And who has receiv'd the love of the most friends? for I know what
|
|
215
|
|
|
it is to receive the passionate love of many friends,
|
|
216
|
|
|
And who possesses a perfect and enamour'd body? for I do not believe
|
|
217
|
|
|
any one possesses a more perfect or enamour'd body than mine,
|
|
218
|
|
|
And who thinks the amplest thoughts? for I would surround those thoughts,
|
|
219
|
|
|
And who has made hymns fit for the earth? for I am mad with
|
|
220
|
|
|
devouring ecstasy to make joyous hymns for the whole earth.
|
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
|
221
|
|
|
Ah Poverties, Wincings, and Sulky Retreats
|
|
222
|
|
|
Ah poverties, wincings, and sulky retreats,
|
|
223
|
|
|
Ah you foes that in conflict have overcome me,
|
|
224
|
|
|
(For what is my life or any man's life but a conflict with foes, the
|
|
225
|
|
|
old, the incessant war?)
|
|
226
|
|
|
You degradations, you tussle with passions and appetites,
|
|
227
|
|
|
You smarts from dissatisfied friendships, (ah wounds the sharpest of all!)
|
|
228
|
|
|
You toil of painful and choked articulations, you meannesses,
|
|
229
|
|
|
You shallow tongue-talks at tables, (my tongue the shallowest of any;)
|
|
230
|
|
|
You broken resolutions, you racking angers, you smother'd ennuis!
|
|
231
|
|
|
Ah think not you finally triumph, my real self has yet to come forth,
|
|
232
|
|
|
It shall yet march forth o'ermastering, till all lies beneath me,
|
|
233
|
|
|
It shall yet stand up the soldier of ultimate victory.
|
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
|
234
|
|
|
Thoughts
|
|
235
|
|
|
Of public opinion,
|
|
236
|
|
|
Of a calm and cool fiat sooner or later, (how impassive! how certain
|
|
237
|
|
|
and final!)
|
|
238
|
|
|
Of the President with pale face asking secretly to himself, What
|
|
239
|
|
|
will the people say at last?
|
|
240
|
|
|
Of the frivolous Judge—of the corrupt Congressman, Governor,
|
|
241
|
|
|
Mayor—of such as these standing helpless and exposed,
|
|
242
|
|
|
Of the mumbling and screaming priest, (soon, soon deserted,)
|
|
243
|
|
|
Of the lessening year by year of venerableness, and of the dicta of
|
|
244
|
|
|
officers, statutes, pulpits, schools,
|
|
245
|
|
|
Of the rising forever taller and stronger and broader of the
|
|
246
|
|
|
intuitions of men and women, and of Self-esteem and Personality;
|
|
247
|
|
|
Of the true New World—of the Democracies resplendent en-masse,
|
|
248
|
|
|
Of the conformity of politics, armies, navies, to them,
|
|
249
|
|
|
Of the shining sun by them—of the inherent light, greater than the rest,
|
|
250
|
|
|
Of the envelopment of all by them, and the effusion of all from them.
|
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
|
251
|
|
|
Mediums
|
|
252
|
|
|
They shall arise in the States,
|
|
253
|
|
|
They shall report Nature, laws, physiology, and happiness,
|
|
254
|
|
|
They shall illustrate Democracy and the kosmos,
|
|
255
|
|
|
They shall be alimentive, amative, perceptive,
|
|
256
|
|
|
They shall be complete women and men, their pose brawny and supple,
|
|
257
|
|
|
their drink water, their blood clean and clear,
|
|
258
|
|
|
They shall fully enjoy materialism and the sight of products, they
|
|
125
|
|
|
shall enjoy the sight of the beef, lumber, bread-stuffs, of
|
|
126
|
|
|
Chicago the great city.
|
|
127
|
|
|
They shall train themselves to go in public to become orators and
|
|
128
|
|
|
oratresses,
|
|
129
|
|
|
Strong and sweet shall their tongues be, poems and materials of
|
|
130
|
|
|
poems shall come from their lives, they shall be makers and finders,
|
|
131
|
|
|
Of them and of their works shall emerge divine conveyers, to convey gospels,
|
|
132
|
|
|
Characters, events, retrospections, shall be convey'd in gospels,
|
|
133
|
|
|
trees, animals, waters, shall be convey'd,
|
|
134
|
|
|
Death, the future, the invisible faith, shall all be convey'd.
|
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
|
135
|
|
|
Weave in, My Hardy Life
|
|
136
|
|
|
Weave in, weave in, my hardy life,
|
|
137
|
|
|
Weave yet a soldier strong and full for great campaigns to come,
|
|
138
|
|
|
Weave in red blood, weave sinews in like ropes, the senses, sight weave in,
|
|
139
|
|
|
Weave lasting sure, weave day and night the wet, the warp, incessant
|
|
140
|
|
|
weave, tire not,
|
|
141
|
|
|
(We know not what the use O life, nor know the aim, the end, nor
|
|
142
|
|
|
really aught we know,
|
|
143
|
|
|
But know the work, the need goes on and shall go on, the
|
|
144
|
|
|
death-envelop'd march of peace as well as war goes on,)
|
|
145
|
|
|
For great campaigns of peace the same the wiry threads to weave,
|
|
146
|
|
|
We know not why or what, yet weave, forever weave.
|
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147
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Spain, 1873-74
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148
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Out of the murk of heaviest clouds,
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149
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Out of the feudal wrecks and heap'd-up skeletons of kings,
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150
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Out of that old entire European debris, the shatter'd mummeries,
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151
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Ruin'd cathedrals, crumble of palaces, tombs of priests,
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152
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Lo, Freedom's features fresh undimm'd look forth—the same immortal
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153
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face looks forth;
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154
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(A glimpse as of thy Mother's face Columbia,
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155
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A flash significant as of a sword,
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156
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Beaming towards thee.)
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157
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Nor think we forget thee maternal;
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158
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Lag'd'st thou so long? shall the clouds close again upon thee?
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159
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Ah, but thou hast thyself now appear'd to us—we know thee,
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160
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Thou hast given us a sure proof, the glimpse of thyself,
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161
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Thou waitest there as everywhere thy time.
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162
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By Broad Potomac's Shore
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163
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By broad Potomac's shore, again old tongue,
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164
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(Still uttering, still ejaculating, canst never cease this babble?)
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165
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Again old heart so gay, again to you, your sense, the full flush
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166
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spring returning,
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167
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Again the freshness and the odors, again Virginia's summer sky,
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168
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pellucid blue and silver,
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169
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Again the forenoon purple of the hills,
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170
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Again the deathless grass, so noiseless soft and green,
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171
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Again the blood-red roses blooming.
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172
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Perfume this book of mine O blood-red roses!
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173
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Lave subtly with your waters every line Potomac!
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174
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Give me of you O spring, before I close, to put between its pages!
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175
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O forenoon purple of the hills, before I close, of you!
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176
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O deathless grass, of you!
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177
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From Far Dakota's Canyons [June 25, 1876]
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178
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From far Dakota's canyons,
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179
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Lands of the wild ravine, the dusky Sioux, the lonesome stretch, the
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180
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silence,
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181
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Haply to-day a mournful wall, haply a trumpet-note for heroes.
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182
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The battle-bulletin,
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183
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The Indian ambuscade, the craft, the fatal environment,
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184
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The cavalry companies fighting to the last in sternest heroism,
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185
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In the midst of their little circle, with their slaughter'd horses
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186
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for breastworks,
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187
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The fall of Custer and all his officers and men.
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188
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Continues yet the old, old legend of our race,
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189
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The loftiest of life upheld by death,
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190
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The ancient banner perfectly maintain'd,
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191
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O lesson opportune, O how I welcome thee!
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192
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As sitting in dark days,
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193
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Lone, sulky, through the time's thick murk looking in vain for
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194
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light, for hope,
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195
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From unsuspected parts a fierce and momentary proof,
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196
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(The sun there at the centre though conceal'd,
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197
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Electric life forever at the centre,)
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198
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Breaks forth a lightning flash.
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|
199
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Thou of the tawny flowing hair in battle,
|
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200
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I erewhile saw, with erect head, pressing ever in front, bearing a
|
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201
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bright sword in thy hand,
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202
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Now ending well in death the splendid fever of thy deeds,
|
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203
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(I bring no dirge for it or thee, I bring a glad triumphal sonnet,)
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204
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Desperate and glorious, aye in defeat most desperate, most glorious,
|
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205
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After thy many battles in which never yielding up a gun or a color,
|
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206
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Leaving behind thee a memory sweet to soldiers,
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207
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Thou yieldest up thyself.
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0.1. Old War-Dreams
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0
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In midnight sleep of many a face of anguish,
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1
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Of the look at first of the mortally wounded, (of that indescribable look,)
|
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2
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Of the dead on their backs with arms extended wide,
|
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3
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I dream, I dream, I dream.
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|
4
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Of scenes of Nature, fields and mountains,
|
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5
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Of skies so beauteous after a storm, and at night the moon so
|
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6
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unearthly bright,
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7
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Shining sweetly, shining down, where we dig the trenches and
|
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8
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gather the heaps,
|
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9
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I dream, I dream, I dream.
|
| |
|
10
|
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Long have they pass'd, faces and trenches and fields,
|
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11
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Where through the carnage I moved with a callous composure, or away
|
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12
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from the fallen,
|
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13
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Onward I sped at the time—but now of their forms at night,
|
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14
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I dream, I dream, I dream.
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0.2. Thick-Sprinkled Bunting
|
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0
|
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Thick-sprinkled bunting! flag of stars!
|
|
1
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Long yet your road, fateful flag—long yet your road, and lined with
|
|
2
|
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bloody death,
|
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3
|
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For the prize I see at issue at last is the world,
|
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4
|
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All its ships and shores I see interwoven with your threads greedy banner;
|
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5
|
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Dream'd again the flags of kings, highest borne to flaunt unrival'd?
|
|
6
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O hasten flag of man—O with sure and steady step, passing highest
|
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7
|
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flags of kings,
|
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8
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Walk supreme to the heavens mighty symbol—run up above them all,
|
|
9
|
|
|
Flag of stars! thick-sprinkled bunting!
|
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|
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0.3. What Best I See in Thee
|
|
0
|
|
|
[To U. S. G. return'd from his World's Tour]
|
| |
|
1
|
|
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What best I see in thee,
|
|
2
|
|
|
Is not that where thou mov'st down history's great highways,
|
|
3
|
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|
Ever undimm'd by time shoots warlike victory's dazzle,
|
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4
|
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Or that thou sat'st where Washington sat, ruling the land in peace,
|
|
5
|
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|
Or thou the man whom feudal Europe feted, venerable Asia swarm'd upon,
|
|
6
|
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|
Who walk'd with kings with even pace the round world's promenade;
|
|
7
|
|
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But that in foreign lands, in all thy walks with kings,
|
|
8
|
|
|
Those prairie sovereigns of the West, Kansas, Missouri, Illinois,
|
|
9
|
|
|
Ohio's, Indiana's millions, comrades, farmers, soldiers, all to the front,
|
|
10
|
|
|
Invisibly with thee walking with kings with even pace the round
|
|
11
|
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|
world's promenade,
|
|
12
|
|
|
Were all so justified.
|
| |
| |
|
|
0.4. Spirit That Form'd This Scene
|
|
0
|
|
|
[Written in Platte Canyon, Colorado]
|
| |
|
1
|
|
|
Spirit that form'd this scene,
|
|
2
|
|
|
These tumbled rock-piles grim and red,
|
|
3
|
|
|
These reckless heaven-ambitious peaks,
|
|
4
|
|
|
These gorges, turbulent-clear streams, this naked freshness,
|
|
5
|
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|
These formless wild arrays, for reasons of their own,
|
|
6
|
|
|
I know thee, savage spirit—we have communed together,
|
|
7
|
|
|
Mine too such wild arrays, for reasons of their own;
|
|
8
|
|
|
Wast charged against my chants they had forgotten art?
|
|
9
|
|
|
To fuse within themselves its rules precise and delicatesse?
|
|
10
|
|
|
The lyrist's measur'd beat, the wrought-out temple's grace—column
|
|
11
|
|
|
and polish'd arch forgot?
|
|
12
|
|
|
But thou that revelest here—spirit that form'd this scene,
|
|
13
|
|
|
They have remember'd thee.
|
| |
| |
|
|
0.5. As I Walk These Broad Majestic Days
|
|
0
|
|
|
As I walk these broad majestic days of peace,
|
|
1
|
|
|
(For the war, the struggle of blood finish'd, wherein, O terrific Ideal,
|
|
2
|
|
|
Against vast odds erewhile having gloriously won,
|
|
3
|
|
|
Now thou stridest on, yet perhaps in time toward denser wars,
|
|
4
|
|
|
Perhaps to engage in time in still more dreadful contests, dangers,
|
|
5
|
|
|
Longer campaigns and crises, labors beyond all others,)
|
|
6
|
|
|
Around me I hear that eclat of the world, politics, produce,
|
|
7
|
|
|
The announcements of recognized things, science,
|
|
8
|
|
|
The approved growth of cities and the spread of inventions.
|
| |
|
9
|
|
|
I see the ships, (they will last a few years,)
|
|
10
|
|
|
The vast factories with their foremen and workmen,
|
|
11
|
|
|
And hear the indorsement of all, and do not object to it.
|
| |
|
12
|
|
|
But I too announce solid things,
|
|
13
|
|
|
Science, ships, politics, cities, factories, are not nothing,
|
|
14
|
|
|
Like a grand procession to music of distant bugles pouring,
|
|
15
|
|
|
triumphantly moving, and grander heaving in sight,
|
|
16
|
|
|
They stand for realities—all is as it should be.
|
| |
|
17
|
|
|
Then my realities;
|
|
18
|
|
|
What else is so real as mine?
|
|
19
|
|
|
Libertad and the divine average, freedom to every slave on the face
|
|
20
|
|
|
of the earth,
|
|
21
|
|
|
The rapt promises and lumine of seers, the spiritual world, these
|
|
22
|
|
|
centuries-lasting songs,
|
|
23
|
|
|
And our visions, the visions of poets, the most solid announcements
|
|
24
|
|
|
of any.
|
| |
| |
|
|
0.6. A Clear Midnight
|
|
0
|
|
|
This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
|
|
1
|
|
|
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
|
|
2
|
|
|
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou
|
|
3
|
|
|
lovest best,
|
