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1. BOOK VII
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1.1. Song of the Open Road
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1.1.1. 1
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0
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Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
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1
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Healthy, free, the world before me,
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2
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The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.
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3
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Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
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4
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Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
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5
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Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
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6
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Strong and content I travel the open road.
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7
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The earth, that is sufficient,
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8
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I do not want the constellations any nearer,
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9
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I know they are very well where they are,
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10
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I know they suffice for those who belong to them.
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11
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(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
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12
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I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
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13
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I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
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14
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I am fill'd with them, and I will fill them in return.)
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1.1.2. 2
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0
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You road I enter upon and look around, I believe you are not all
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that is here,
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2
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I believe that much unseen is also here.
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3
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Here the profound lesson of reception, nor preference nor denial,
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4
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The black with his woolly head, the felon, the diseas'd, the
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illiterate person, are not denied;
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The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar's tramp, the
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7
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drunkard's stagger, the laughing party of mechanics,
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8
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The escaped youth, the rich person's carriage, the fop, the eloping couple,
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9
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The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of furniture into the
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town, the return back from the town,
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They pass, I also pass, any thing passes, none can be interdicted,
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12
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None but are accepted, none but shall be dear to me.
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1.1.3. 3
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0
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You air that serves me with breath to speak!
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1
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You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them shape!
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2
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You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!
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3
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You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides!
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4
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I believe you are latent with unseen existences, you are so dear to me.
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5
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You flagg'd walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges!
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6
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You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined
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side! you distant ships!
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8
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You rows of houses! you window-pierc'd facades! you roofs!
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You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards!
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10
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You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much!
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You doors and ascending steps! you arches!
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12
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You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings!
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13
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From all that has touch'd you I believe you have imparted to
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yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me,
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From the living and the dead you have peopled your impassive surfaces,
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and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable with me.
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1.1.4. 4
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0
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The earth expanding right hand and left hand,
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1
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The picture alive, every part in its best light,
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2
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The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is
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not wanted,
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4
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The cheerful voice of the public road, the gay fresh sentiment of the road.
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5
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O highway I travel, do you say to me Do not leave me?
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Do you say Venture not—if you leave me you are lost?
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Do you say I am already prepared, I am well-beaten and undenied,
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adhere to me?
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9
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O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love you,
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10
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You express me better than I can express myself,
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11
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You shall be more to me than my poem.
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12
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I think heroic deeds were all conceiv'd in the open air, and all
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free poems also,
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I think I could stop here myself and do miracles,
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I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever
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beholds me shall like me,
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I think whoever I see must be happy.
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1.1.5. 5
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From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines,
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Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,
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Listening to others, considering well what they say,
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3
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Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
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4
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Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that
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would hold me.
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6
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I inhale great draughts of space,
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7
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The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.
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8
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I am larger, better than I thought,
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9
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I did not know I held so much goodness.
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10
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All seems beautiful to me,
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can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to me
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I would do the same to you,
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I will recruit for myself and you as I go,
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14
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I will scatter myself among men and women as I go,
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I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them,
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Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me,
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Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me.
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1.1.6. 6
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Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear it would not amaze me,
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1
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Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear'd it would not
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astonish me.
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3
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Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons,
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4
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It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.
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5
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Here a great personal deed has room,
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6
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(Such a deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men,
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Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law and mocks all
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authority and all argument against it.)
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9
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Here is the test of wisdom,
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10
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Wisdom is not finally tested in schools,
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Wisdom cannot be pass'd from one having it to another not having it,
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Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof,
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Applies to all stages and objects and qualities and is content,
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Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the
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excellence of things;
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Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes
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it out of the soul.
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Now I re-examine philosophies and religions,
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They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the
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spacious clouds and along the landscape and flowing currents.
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Here is realization,
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Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he has in him,
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The past, the future, majesty, love—if they are vacant of you, you
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are vacant of them.
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Only the kernel of every object nourishes;
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Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me?
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Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me?
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Here is adhesiveness, it is not previously fashion'd, it is apropos;
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Do you know what it is as you pass to be loved by strangers?
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30
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Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls?
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1.1.7. 7
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Here is the efflux of the soul,
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The efflux of the soul comes from within through embower'd gates,
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ever provoking questions,
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These yearnings why are they? these thoughts in the darkness why are they?
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Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sunlight
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expands my blood?
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Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?
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Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious
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thoughts descend upon me?
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(I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees and always
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drop fruit as I pass;)
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What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers?
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What with some driver as I ride on the seat by his side?
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What with some fisherman drawing his seine by the shore as I walk by
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and pause?
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What gives me to be free to a woman's and man's good-will? what
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gives them to be free to mine?
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1.1.8. 8
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The efflux of the soul is happiness, here is happiness,
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I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times,
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Now it flows unto us, we are rightly charged.
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Here rises the fluid and attaching character,
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The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness of
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man and woman,
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(The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every day
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out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet
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continually out of itself.)
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Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the
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love of young and old,
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From it falls distill'd the charm that mocks beauty and attainments,
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Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact.
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1.1.9. 9
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Allons! whoever you are come travel with me!
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Traveling with me you find what never tires.
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The earth never tires,
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The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude
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and incomprehensible at first,
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Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop'd,
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I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.
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Allons! we must not stop here,
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However sweet these laid-up stores, however convenient this dwelling
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we cannot remain here,
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However shelter'd this port and however calm these waters we must
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not anchor here,
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However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us we are permitted
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to receive it but a little while.
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1.1.10. 10
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Allons! the inducements shall be greater,
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We will sail pathless and wild seas,
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We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the Yankee clipper
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speeds by under full sail.
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Allons! with power, liberty, the earth, the elements,
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Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity;
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Allons! from all formules!
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From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic priests.
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The stale cadaver blocks up the passage—the burial waits no longer.
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Allons! yet take warning!
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He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews, endurance,
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None may come to the trial till he or she bring courage and health,
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Come not here if you have already spent the best of yourself,
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Only those may come who come in sweet and determin'd bodies,
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No diseas'd person, no rum-drinker or venereal taint is permitted here.
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(I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes,
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We convince by our presence.)
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1.1.11. 11
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Listen! I will be honest with you,
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I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes,
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These are the days that must happen to you:
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You shall not heap up what is call'd riches,
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You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve,
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You but arrive at the city to which you were destin'd, you hardly
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settle yourself to satisfaction before you are call'd by an
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irresistible call to depart,
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You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those
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who remain behind you,
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What beckonings of love you receive you shall only answer with
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passionate kisses of parting,
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You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach'd hands
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toward you.
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1.1.12. 12
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Allons! after the great Companions, and to belong to them!
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They too are on the road—they are the swift and majestic men—they
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are the greatest women,
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Enjoyers of calms of seas and storms of seas,
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Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land,
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Habitues of many distant countries, habitues of far-distant dwellings,
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Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers,
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Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore,
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Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of
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children, bearers of children,
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Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers-down of coffins,
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Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years, the curious
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years each emerging from that which preceded it,
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Journeyers as with companions, namely their own diverse phases,
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Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days,
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Journeyers gayly with their own youth, journeyers with their bearded
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and well-grain'd manhood,
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Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass'd, content,
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Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood,
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Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe,
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Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.
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1.1.13. 13
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Allons! to that which is endless as it was beginningless,
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To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights,
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To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days and nights
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they tend to,
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Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys,
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To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it,
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To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it and pass it,
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To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you,
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however long but it stretches and waits for you,
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To see no being, not God's or any, but you also go thither,
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To see no possession but you may possess it, enjoying all without
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labor or purchase, abstracting the feast yet not abstracting one
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particle of it,
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To take the best of the farmer's farm and the rich man's elegant
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villa, and the chaste blessings of the well-married couple, and
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the fruits of orchards and flowers of gardens,
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To take to your use out of the compact cities as you pass through,
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To carry buildings and streets with you afterward wherever you go,
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To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you encounter
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them, to gather the love out of their hearts,
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To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave
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them behind you,
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To know the universe itself as a road, as many roads, as roads for
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traveling souls.
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All parts away for the progress of souls,
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All religion, all solid things, arts, governments—all that was or is
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apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and corners
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before the procession of souls along the grand roads of the universe.
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Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads of
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the universe, all other progress is the needed emblem and sustenance.
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30
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Forever alive, forever forward,
|
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31
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Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble,
|
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32
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dissatisfied,
|
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33
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Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men,
|
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34
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They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go,
|
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35
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But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great.
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| |
|
36
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Whoever you are, come forth! or man or woman come forth!
|
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37
|
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You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though
|
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38
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you built it, or though it has been built for you.
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| |
|
39
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Out of the dark confinement! out from behind the screen!
|
|
40
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It is useless to protest, I know all and expose it.
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| |
|
41
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Behold through you as bad as the rest,
|
|
42
|
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Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people,
|
|
43
|
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Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash'd and trimm'd faces,
|
|
44
|
|
|
Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.
|
| |
|
45
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No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession,
|
|
46
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Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes,
|
|
47
|
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|
Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and
|
|
48
|
|
|
bland in the parlors,
|
|
49
|
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|
In the cars of railroads, in steamboats, in the public assembly,
|
|
50
|
|
|
Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bedroom,
|
|
51
|
|
|
everywhere,
|
|
52
|
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|
Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the
|
|
53
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|
|
breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones,
|
|
54
|
|
|
Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers,
|
|
55
|
|
|
Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself,
|
|
56
|
|
|
Speaking of any thing else but never of itself.
|
| |
| |
|
|
|
1.1.14. 14
|
|
0
|
|
|
Allons! through struggles and wars!
|
|
1
|
|
|
The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.
|
| |
|
2
|
|
|
Have the past struggles succeeded?
|
|
3
|
|
|
What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? Nature?
|
|
4
|
|
|
Now understand me well—it is provided in the essence of things that
|
|
5
|
|
|
from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth
|
|
6
|
|
|
something to make a greater struggle necessary.
|
| |
|
7
|
|
|
My call is the call of battle, I nourish active rebellion,
|
|
8
|
|
|
He going with me must go well arm'd,
|
|
9
|
|
|
He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies,
|
|
10
|
|
|
desertions.
|
| |
| |
|
|
|
1.1.15. 15
|
|
0
|
|
|
Allons! the road is before us!
|
|
1
|
|
|
It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well—be not
|
|
2
|
|
|
detain'd!
|
|
3
|
|
|
Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the
|
|
4
|
|
|
shelf unopen'd!
|
|
5
|
|
|
Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn'd!
|
|
6
|
|
|
Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!
|
|
7
|
|
|
Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the
|
|
8
|
|
|
court, and the judge expound the law.
|
| |
|
9
|
|
|
Camerado, I give you my hand!
|
|
10
|
|
|
I give you my love more precious than money,
|
|
11
|
|
|
I give you myself before preaching or law;
|
|
12
|
|
|
Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?
|
