BOOK IIStarting from Paumanok1Starting from fish-shape Paumanok where I was born,Well-begotten, and rais’d by a perfect mother,After roaming many lands, lover of populous pavements,Dweller in Mannahatta my city, or on southern savannas,Or a soldier camp’d or carrying my knapsack and gun, or a minerin California,Or rude in my home in Dakota’s woods, my diet meat, my drink fromthe spring,Or withdrawn to muse and meditate in some deep recess,Far from the clank of crowds intervals passing rapt and happy,Aware of the fresh free giver the flowing Missouri, aware ofmighty Niagara,Aware of the buffalo herds grazing the plains, the hirsute andstrong-breasted bull,Of earth, rocks, Fifth-month flowers experienced, stars, rain, snow,my amaze,Having studied the mocking-bird’s tones and the flight of themountain-hawk,And heard at dawn the unrivall’d one, the hermit thrush from theswamp-cedars,Solitary, singing in the West, I strike up for a New World.2Victory, union, faith, identity, time,The indissoluble compacts, riches, mystery,Eternal progress, the kosmos, and the modern reports.This then is life,Here is what has come to the surface after so many throes and convulsions.How curious! how real!Underfoot the divine soil, overhead the sun.See revolving the globe,The ancestor-continents away group’d together,The present and future continents north and south, with the isthmusbetween.See, vast trackless spaces,As in a dream they change, they swiftly fill,Countless masses debouch upon them,They are now cover’d with the foremost people, arts, institutions, known.See, projected through time,For me an audience interminable.With firm and regular step they wend, they never stop,Successions of men, Americanos, a hundred millions,One generation playing its part and passing on,Another generation playing its part and passing on in its turn,With faces turn’d sideways or backward towards me to listen,With eyes retrospective towards me.3Americanos! conquerors! marches humanitarian!Foremost! century marches! Libertad! masses!For you a programme of chants.Chants of the prairies,Chants of the long-running Mississippi, and down to the Mexican sea,Chants of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin and Minnesota,Chants going forth from the centre from Kansas, and thence equidistant,Shooting in pulses of fire ceaseless to vivify all.4Take my leaves America, take them South and take them North,Make welcome for them everywhere, for they are your own off-spring,Surround them East and West, for they would surround you,And you precedents, connect lovingly with them, for they connectlovingly with you.I conn’d old times,I sat studying at the feet of the great masters,Now if eligible O that the great masters might return and study me.In the name of these States shall I scorn the antique?Why these are the children of the antique to justify it.5Dead poets, philosophs, priests,Martyrs, artists, inventors, governments long since,Language-shapers on other shores,Nations once powerful, now reduced, withdrawn, or desolate,I dare not proceed till I respectfully credit what you have leftwafted hither,I have perused it, own it is admirable, (moving awhile among it,)Think nothing can ever be greater, nothing can ever deserve morethan it deserves,Regarding it all intently a long while, then dismissing it,I stand in my place with my own day here.Here lands female and male,Here the heir-ship and heiress-ship of the world, here the flame ofmaterials,Here spirituality the translatress, the openly-avow’d,The ever-tending, the finale of visible forms,The satisfier, after due long-waiting now advancing,Yes here comes my mistress the soul.6The soul,Forever and forever—longer than soil is brown and solid—longerthan water ebbs and flows.I will make the poems of materials, for I think they are to be themost spiritual poems,And I will make the poems of my body and of mortality,For I think I shall then supply myself with the poems of my soul andof immortality.I will make a song for these States that no one State may under anycircumstances be subjected to another State,And I will make a song that there shall be comity by day and bynight between all the States, and between any two of them,And I will make a song for the ears of the President, full ofweapons with menacing points,And behind the weapons countless dissatisfied faces;And a song make I of the One form’d out of all,The fang’d and glittering One whose head is over all,Resolute warlike One including and over all,(However high the head of any else that head is over all.)I will acknowledge contemporary lands,I will trail the whole geography of the globe and salute courteouslyevery city large and small,And employments! I will put in my poems that with you is heroismupon land and sea,And I will report all heroism from an American point of view.I will sing the song of companionship,I will show what alone must finally compact these,I believe these are to found their own ideal of manly love,indicating it in me,I will therefore let flame from me the burning fires that werethreatening to consume me,I will lift what has too long kept down those smouldering fires,I will give them complete abandonment,I will write the evangel-poem of comrades and of love,For who but I should understand love with all its sorrow and joy?And who but I should be the poet of comrades?7I am the credulous man of qualities, ages, races,I advance from the people in their own spirit,Here is what sings unrestricted faith.Omnes! omnes! let others ignore what they may,I make the poem of evil also, I commemorate that part also,I am myself just as much evil as good, and my nation is—and I saythere is in fact no evil,(Or if there is I say it is just as important to you, to the land orto me, as any thing else.)I too, following many and follow’d by many, inaugurate a religion, Idescend into the arena,(It may be I am destin’d to utter the loudest cries there, thewinner’s pealing shouts,Who knows? they may rise from me yet, and soar above every thing.)Each is not for its own sake,I say the whole earth and all the stars in the sky are for religion’s sake.I say no man has ever yet been half devout enough,None has ever yet adored or worship’d half enough,None has begun to think how divine he himself is, and how certainthe future is.I say that the real and permanent grandeur of these States must betheir religion,Otherwise there is just no real and permanent grandeur;(Nor character nor life worthy the name without religion,Nor land nor man or woman without religion.)8What are you doing young man?Are you so earnest, so given up to literature, science, art, amours?These ostensible realities, politics, points?Your ambition or business whatever it may be?It is well—against such I say not a word, I am their poet also,But behold! such swiftly subside, burnt up for religion’s sake,For not all matter is fuel to heat, impalpable flame, the essentiallife of the earth,Any more than such are to religion.9What do you seek so pensive and silent?What do you need camerado?Dear son do you think it is love?Listen dear son—listen America, daughter or son,It is a painful thing to love a man or woman to excess, and yet itsatisfies, it is great,But there is something else very great, it makes the whole coincide,It, magnificent, beyond materials, with continuous hands sweeps andprovides for all.10Know you, solely to drop in the earth the germs of a greater religion,The following chants each for its kind I sing.My comrade!For you to share with me two greatnesses, and a third one risinginclusive and more resplendent,The greatness of Love and Democracy, and the greatness of Religion.Melange mine own, the unseen and the seen,Mysterious ocean where the streams empty,Prophetic spirit of materials shifting and flickering around me,Living beings, identities now doubtless near us in the air that weknow not of,Contact daily and hourly that will not release me,These selecting, these in hints demanded of me.Not he with a daily kiss onward from childhood kissing me,Has winded and twisted around me that which holds me to him,Any more than I am held to the heavens and all the spiritual world,After what they have done to me, suggesting themes.O such themes—equalities! O divine average!Warblings under the sun, usher’d as now, or at noon, or setting,Strains musical flowing through ages, now reaching hither,I take to your reckless and composite chords, add to them, andcheerfully pass them forward.11As I have walk’d in Alabama my morning walk,I have seen where the she-bird the mocking-bird sat on her nest inthe briers hatching her brood.I have seen the he-bird also,I have paus’d to hear him near at hand inflating his throat andjoyfully singing.And while I paus’d it came to me that what he really sang for wasnot there only,Nor for his mate nor himself only, nor all sent back by the echoes,But subtle, clandestine, away beyond,A charge transmitted and gift occult for those being born.12Democracy! near at hand to you a throat is now inflating itself andjoyfully singing.Ma femme! for the brood beyond us and of us,For those who belong here and those to come,I exultant to be ready for them will now shake out carols strongerand haughtier than have ever yet been heard upon earth.I will make the songs of passion to give them their way,And your songs outlaw’d offenders, for I scan you with kindred eyes,and carry you with me the same as any.I will make the true poem of riches,To earn for the body and the mind whatever adheres and goes forwardand is not dropt by death;I will effuse egotism and show it underlying all, and I will be thebard of personality,And I will show of male and female that either is but the equal ofthe other,And sexual organs and acts! do you concentrate in me, for I am determin’dto tell you with courageous clear voice to prove you illustrious,And I will show that there is no imperfection in the present, andcan be none in the future,And I will show that whatever happens to anybody it may be turn’d tobeautiful results,And I will show that nothing can happen more beautiful than death,And I will thread a thread through my poems that time and events arecompact,And that all the things of the universe are perfect miracles, eachas profound as any.I will not make poems with reference to parts,But I will make poems, songs, thoughts, with reference to ensemble,And I will not sing with reference to a day, but with reference toall days,And I will not make a poem nor the least part of a poem but hasreference to the soul,Because having look’d at the objects of the universe, I find thereis no one nor any particle of one but has reference to the soul.13Was somebody asking to see the soul?See, your own shape and countenance, persons, substances, beasts,the trees, the running rivers, the rocks and sands.All hold spiritual joys and afterwards loosen them;How can the real body ever die and be buried?Of your real body and any man’s or woman’s real body,Item for item it will elude the hands of the corpse-cleaners andpass to fitting spheres,Carrying what has accrued to it from the moment of birth to themoment of death.Not the types set up by the printer return their impression, themeaning, the main concern,Any more than a man’s substance and life or a woman’s substance andlife return in the body and the soul,Indifferently before death and after death.Behold, the body includes and is the meaning, the main concern andincludes and is the soul;Whoever you are, how superb and how divine is your body, or any partof it!14Whoever you are, to you endless announcements!Daughter of the lands did you wait for your poet?Did you wait for one with a flowing mouth and indicative hand?Toward the male of the States, and toward the female of the States,Exulting words, words to Democracy’s lands.Interlink’d, food-yielding lands!Land of coal and iron! land of gold! land of cotton, sugar, rice!Land of wheat, beef, pork! land of wool and hemp! land of the appleand the grape!Land of the pastoral plains, the grass-fields of the world! land ofthose sweet-air’d interminable plateaus!Land of the herd, the garden, the healthy house of adobie!Lands where the north-west Columbia winds, and where the south-westColorado winds!Land of the eastern Chesapeake! land of the Delaware!Land of Ontario, Erie, Huron, Michigan!Land of the Old Thirteen! Massachusetts land! land of Vermont andConnecticut!Land of the ocean shores! land of sierras and peaks!Land of boatmen and sailors! fishermen’s land!Inextricable lands! the clutch’d together! the passionate ones!The side by side! the elder and younger brothers! the bony-limb’d!The great women’s land! the feminine! the experienced sisters andthe inexperienced sisters!Far breath’d land! Arctic braced! Mexican breez’d! the diverse! thecompact!The Pennsylvanian! the Virginian! the double Carolinian!O all and each well-loved by me! my intrepid nations! O I at anyrate include you all with perfect love!I cannot be discharged from you! not from one any sooner than another!O death! O for all that, I am yet of you unseen this hour withirrepressible love,Walking New England, a friend, a traveler,Splashing my bare feet in the edge of the summer ripples onPaumanok’s sands,Crossing the prairies, dwelling again in Chicago, dwelling in every town,Observing shows, births, improvements, structures, arts,Listening to orators and oratresses in public halls,Of and through the States as during life, each man and woman my neighbor,The Louisianian, the Georgian, as near to me, and I as near to him and her,The Mississippian and Arkansian yet with me, and I yet with any of them,Yet upon the plains west of the spinal river, yet in my house of adobie,Yet returning eastward, yet in the Seaside State or in Maryland,Yet Kanadian cheerily braving the winter, the snow and ice welcome to me,Yet a true son either of Maine or of the Granite State, or theNarragansett Bay State, or the Empire State,Yet sailing to other shores to annex the same, yet welcoming everynew brother,Hereby applying these leaves to the new ones from the hour theyunite with the old ones,Coming among the new ones myself to be their companion and equal,coming personally to you now,Enjoining you to acts, characters, spectacles, with me.15With me with firm holding, yet haste, haste on.For your life adhere to me,(I may have to be persuaded many times before I consent to givemyself really to you, but what of that?Must not Nature be persuaded many times?)No dainty dolce affettuoso I,Bearded, sun-burnt, gray-neck’d, forbidding, I have arrived,To be wrestled with as I pass for the solid prizes of the universe,For such I afford whoever can persevere to win them.16On my way a moment I pause,Here for you! and here for America!Still the present I raise aloft, still the future of the States Iharbinge glad and sublime,And for the past I pronounce what the air holds of the red aborigines.The red aborigines,Leaving natural breaths, sounds of rain and winds, calls as of birdsand animals in the woods, syllabled to us for names,Okonee, Koosa, Ottawa, Monongahela, Sauk, Natchez, Chattahoochee,Kaqueta, Oronoco,Wabash, Miami, Saginaw, Chippewa, Oshkosh, Walla-Walla,Leaving such to the States they melt, they depart, charging thewater and the land with names.17Expanding and swift, henceforth,Elements, breeds, adjustments, turbulent, quick and audacious,A world primal again, vistas of glory incessant and branching,A new race dominating previous ones and grander far, with new contests,New politics, new literatures and religions, new inventions and arts.These, my voice announcing—I will sleep no more but arise,You oceans that have been calm within me! how I feel you,fathomless, stirring, preparing unprecedented waves and storms.18See, steamers steaming through my poems,See, in my poems immigrants continually coming and landing,See, in arriere, the wigwam, the trail, the hunter’s hut, the flat-boat,the maize-leaf, the claim, the rude fence, and the backwoods village,See, on the one side the Western Sea and on the other the Eastern Sea,how they advance and retreat upon my poems as upon their own shores,See, pastures and forests in my poems—see, animals wild and tame—see,beyond the Kaw, countless herds of buffalo feeding on short curly grass,See, in my poems, cities, solid, vast, inland, with paved streets,with iron and stone edifices, ceaseless vehicles, and commerce,See, the many-cylinder’d steam printing-press—see, the electrictelegraph stretching across the continent,See, through Atlantica’s depths pulses American Europe reaching,pulses of Europe duly return’d,See, the strong and quick locomotive as it departs, panting, blowingthe steam-whistle,See, ploughmen ploughing farms—see, miners digging mines—see,the numberless factories,See, mechanics busy at their benches with tools—see from among themsuperior judges, philosophs, Presidents, emerge, drest inworking dresses,See, lounging through the shops and fields of the States, mewell-belov’d, close-held by day and night,Hear the loud echoes of my songs there—read the hints come at last.19O camerado close! O you and me at last, and us two only.O a word to clear one’s path ahead endlessly!O something ecstatic and undemonstrable! O music wild!O now I triumph—and you shall also;O hand in hand—O wholesome pleasure—O one more desirer and lover!O to haste firm holding—to haste, haste on with me.
Starting from Paumanok
1Starting from fish-shape Paumanok where I was born,Well-begotten, and rais’d by a perfect mother,After roaming many lands, lover of populous pavements,Dweller in Mannahatta my city, or on southern savannas,Or a soldier camp’d or carrying my knapsack and gun, or a minerin California,Or rude in my home in Dakota’s woods, my diet meat, my drink fromthe spring,Or withdrawn to muse and meditate in some deep recess,Far from the clank of crowds intervals passing rapt and happy,Aware of the fresh free giver the flowing Missouri, aware ofmighty Niagara,Aware of the buffalo herds grazing the plains, the hirsute andstrong-breasted bull,Of earth, rocks, Fifth-month flowers experienced, stars, rain, snow,my amaze,Having studied the mocking-bird’s tones and the flight of themountain-hawk,And heard at dawn the unrivall’d one, the hermit thrush from theswamp-cedars,Solitary, singing in the West, I strike up for a New World.2Victory, union, faith, identity, time,The indissoluble compacts, riches, mystery,Eternal progress, the kosmos, and the modern reports.This then is life,Here is what has come to the surface after so many throes and convulsions.How curious! how real!Underfoot the divine soil, overhead the sun.See revolving the globe,The ancestor-continents away group’d together,The present and future continents north and south, with the isthmusbetween.See, vast trackless spaces,As in a dream they change, they swiftly fill,Countless masses debouch upon them,They are now cover’d with the foremost people, arts, institutions, known.See, projected through time,For me an audience interminable.With firm and regular step they wend, they never stop,Successions of men, Americanos, a hundred millions,One generation playing its part and passing on,Another generation playing its part and passing on in its turn,With faces turn’d sideways or backward towards me to listen,With eyes retrospective towards me.3Americanos! conquerors! marches humanitarian!Foremost! century marches! Libertad! masses!For you a programme of chants.Chants of the prairies,Chants of the long-running Mississippi, and down to the Mexican sea,Chants of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin and Minnesota,Chants going forth from the centre from Kansas, and thence equidistant,Shooting in pulses of fire ceaseless to vivify all.4Take my leaves America, take them South and take them North,Make welcome for them everywhere, for they are your own off-spring,Surround them East and West, for they would surround you,And you precedents, connect lovingly with them, for they connectlovingly with you.I conn’d old times,I sat studying at the feet of the great masters,Now if eligible O that the great masters might return and study me.In the name of these States shall I scorn the antique?Why these are the children of the antique to justify it.5Dead poets, philosophs, priests,Martyrs, artists, inventors, governments long since,Language-shapers on other shores,Nations once powerful, now reduced, withdrawn, or desolate,I dare not proceed till I respectfully credit what you have leftwafted hither,I have perused it, own it is admirable, (moving awhile among it,)Think nothing can ever be greater, nothing can ever deserve morethan it deserves,Regarding it all intently a long while, then dismissing it,I stand in my place with my own day here.Here lands female and male,Here the heir-ship and heiress-ship of the world, here the flame ofmaterials,Here spirituality the translatress, the openly-avow’d,The ever-tending, the finale of visible forms,The satisfier, after due long-waiting now advancing,Yes here comes my mistress the soul.6The soul,Forever and forever—longer than soil is brown and solid—longerthan water ebbs and flows.I will make the poems of materials, for I think they are to be themost spiritual poems,And I will make the poems of my body and of mortality,For I think I shall then supply myself with the poems of my soul andof immortality.I will make a song for these States that no one State may under anycircumstances be subjected to another State,And I will make a song that there shall be comity by day and bynight between all the States, and between any two of them,And I will make a song for the ears of the President, full ofweapons with menacing points,And behind the weapons countless dissatisfied faces;And a song make I of the One form’d out of all,The fang’d and glittering One whose head is over all,Resolute warlike One including and over all,(However high the head of any else that head is over all.)I will acknowledge contemporary lands,I will trail the whole geography of the globe and salute courteouslyevery city large and small,And employments! I will put in my poems that with you is heroismupon land and sea,And I will report all heroism from an American point of view.I will sing the song of companionship,I will show what alone must finally compact these,I believe these are to found their own ideal of manly love,indicating it in me,I will therefore let flame from me the burning fires that werethreatening to consume me,I will lift what has too long kept down those smouldering fires,I will give them complete abandonment,I will write the evangel-poem of comrades and of love,For who but I should understand love with all its sorrow and joy?And who but I should be the poet of comrades?7I am the credulous man of qualities, ages, races,I advance from the people in their own spirit,Here is what sings unrestricted faith.Omnes! omnes! let others ignore what they may,I make the poem of evil also, I commemorate that part also,I am myself just as much evil as good, and my nation is—and I saythere is in fact no evil,(Or if there is I say it is just as important to you, to the land orto me, as any thing else.)I too, following many and follow’d by many, inaugurate a religion, Idescend into the arena,(It may be I am destin’d to utter the loudest cries there, thewinner’s pealing shouts,Who knows? they may rise from me yet, and soar above every thing.)Each is not for its own sake,I say the whole earth and all the stars in the sky are for religion’s sake.I say no man has ever yet been half devout enough,None has ever yet adored or worship’d half enough,None has begun to think how divine he himself is, and how certainthe future is.I say that the real and permanent grandeur of these States must betheir religion,Otherwise there is just no real and permanent grandeur;(Nor character nor life worthy the name without religion,Nor land nor man or woman without religion.)8What are you doing young man?Are you so earnest, so given up to literature, science, art, amours?These ostensible realities, politics, points?Your ambition or business whatever it may be?It is well—against such I say not a word, I am their poet also,But behold! such swiftly subside, burnt up for religion’s sake,For not all matter is fuel to heat, impalpable flame, the essentiallife of the earth,Any more than such are to religion.9What do you seek so pensive and silent?What do you need camerado?Dear son do you think it is love?Listen dear son—listen America, daughter or son,It is a painful thing to love a man or woman to excess, and yet itsatisfies, it is great,But there is something else very great, it makes the whole coincide,It, magnificent, beyond materials, with continuous hands sweeps andprovides for all.10Know you, solely to drop in the earth the germs of a greater religion,The following chants each for its kind I sing.My comrade!For you to share with me two greatnesses, and a third one risinginclusive and more resplendent,The greatness of Love and Democracy, and the greatness of Religion.Melange mine own, the unseen and the seen,Mysterious ocean where the streams empty,Prophetic spirit of materials shifting and flickering around me,Living beings, identities now doubtless near us in the air that weknow not of,Contact daily and hourly that will not release me,These selecting, these in hints demanded of me.Not he with a daily kiss onward from childhood kissing me,Has winded and twisted around me that which holds me to him,Any more than I am held to the heavens and all the spiritual world,After what they have done to me, suggesting themes.O such themes—equalities! O divine average!Warblings under the sun, usher’d as now, or at noon, or setting,Strains musical flowing through ages, now reaching hither,I take to your reckless and composite chords, add to them, andcheerfully pass them forward.11As I have walk’d in Alabama my morning walk,I have seen where the she-bird the mocking-bird sat on her nest inthe briers hatching her brood.I have seen the he-bird also,I have paus’d to hear him near at hand inflating his throat andjoyfully singing.And while I paus’d it came to me that what he really sang for wasnot there only,Nor for his mate nor himself only, nor all sent back by the echoes,But subtle, clandestine, away beyond,A charge transmitted and gift occult for those being born.12Democracy! near at hand to you a throat is now inflating itself andjoyfully singing.Ma femme! for the brood beyond us and of us,For those who belong here and those to come,I exultant to be ready for them will now shake out carols strongerand haughtier than have ever yet been heard upon earth.I will make the songs of passion to give them their way,And your songs outlaw’d offenders, for I scan you with kindred eyes,and carry you with me the same as any.I will make the true poem of riches,To earn for the body and the mind whatever adheres and goes forwardand is not dropt by death;I will effuse egotism and show it underlying all, and I will be thebard of personality,And I will show of male and female that either is but the equal ofthe other,And sexual organs and acts! do you concentrate in me, for I am determin’dto tell you with courageous clear voice to prove you illustrious,And I will show that there is no imperfection in the present, andcan be none in the future,And I will show that whatever happens to anybody it may be turn’d tobeautiful results,And I will show that nothing can happen more beautiful than death,And I will thread a thread through my poems that time and events arecompact,And that all the things of the universe are perfect miracles, eachas profound as any.I will not make poems with reference to parts,But I will make poems, songs, thoughts, with reference to ensemble,And I will not sing with reference to a day, but with reference toall days,And I will not make a poem nor the least part of a poem but hasreference to the soul,Because having look’d at the objects of the universe, I find thereis no one nor any particle of one but has reference to the soul.13Was somebody asking to see the soul?See, your own shape and countenance, persons, substances, beasts,the trees, the running rivers, the rocks and sands.All hold spiritual joys and afterwards loosen them;How can the real body ever die and be buried?Of your real body and any man’s or woman’s real body,Item for item it will elude the hands of the corpse-cleaners andpass to fitting spheres,Carrying what has accrued to it from the moment of birth to themoment of death.Not the types set up by the printer return their impression, themeaning, the main concern,Any more than a man’s substance and life or a woman’s substance andlife return in the body and the soul,Indifferently before death and after death.Behold, the body includes and is the meaning, the main concern andincludes and is the soul;Whoever you are, how superb and how divine is your body, or any partof it!14Whoever you are, to you endless announcements!Daughter of the lands did you wait for your poet?Did you wait for one with a flowing mouth and indicative hand?Toward the male of the States, and toward the female of the States,Exulting words, words to Democracy’s lands.Interlink’d, food-yielding lands!Land of coal and iron! land of gold! land of cotton, sugar, rice!Land of wheat, beef, pork! land of wool and hemp! land of the appleand the grape!Land of the pastoral plains, the grass-fields of the world! land ofthose sweet-air’d interminable plateaus!Land of the herd, the garden, the healthy house of adobie!Lands where the north-west Columbia winds, and where the south-westColorado winds!Land of the eastern Chesapeake! land of the Delaware!Land of Ontario, Erie, Huron, Michigan!Land of the Old Thirteen! Massachusetts land! land of Vermont andConnecticut!Land of the ocean shores! land of sierras and peaks!Land of boatmen and sailors! fishermen’s land!Inextricable lands! the clutch’d together! the passionate ones!The side by side! the elder and younger brothers! the bony-limb’d!The great women’s land! the feminine! the experienced sisters andthe inexperienced sisters!Far breath’d land! Arctic braced! Mexican breez’d! the diverse! thecompact!The Pennsylvanian! the Virginian! the double Carolinian!O all and each well-loved by me! my intrepid nations! O I at anyrate include you all with perfect love!I cannot be discharged from you! not from one any sooner than another!O death! O for all that, I am yet of you unseen this hour withirrepressible love,Walking New England, a friend, a traveler,Splashing my bare feet in the edge of the summer ripples onPaumanok’s sands,Crossing the prairies, dwelling again in Chicago, dwelling in every town,Observing shows, births, improvements, structures, arts,Listening to orators and oratresses in public halls,Of and through the States as during life, each man and woman my neighbor,The Louisianian, the Georgian, as near to me, and I as near to him and her,The Mississippian and Arkansian yet with me, and I yet with any of them,Yet upon the plains west of the spinal river, yet in my house of adobie,Yet returning eastward, yet in the Seaside State or in Maryland,Yet Kanadian cheerily braving the winter, the snow and ice welcome to me,Yet a true son either of Maine or of the Granite State, or theNarragansett Bay State, or the Empire State,Yet sailing to other shores to annex the same, yet welcoming everynew brother,Hereby applying these leaves to the new ones from the hour theyunite with the old ones,Coming among the new ones myself to be their companion and equal,coming personally to you now,Enjoining you to acts, characters, spectacles, with me.15With me with firm holding, yet haste, haste on.For your life adhere to me,(I may have to be persuaded many times before I consent to givemyself really to you, but what of that?Must not Nature be persuaded many times?)No dainty dolce affettuoso I,Bearded, sun-burnt, gray-neck’d, forbidding, I have arrived,To be wrestled with as I pass for the solid prizes of the universe,For such I afford whoever can persevere to win them.16On my way a moment I pause,Here for you! and here for America!Still the present I raise aloft, still the future of the States Iharbinge glad and sublime,And for the past I pronounce what the air holds of the red aborigines.The red aborigines,Leaving natural breaths, sounds of rain and winds, calls as of birdsand animals in the woods, syllabled to us for names,Okonee, Koosa, Ottawa, Monongahela, Sauk, Natchez, Chattahoochee,Kaqueta, Oronoco,Wabash, Miami, Saginaw, Chippewa, Oshkosh, Walla-Walla,Leaving such to the States they melt, they depart, charging thewater and the land with names.17Expanding and swift, henceforth,Elements, breeds, adjustments, turbulent, quick and audacious,A world primal again, vistas of glory incessant and branching,A new race dominating previous ones and grander far, with new contests,New politics, new literatures and religions, new inventions and arts.These, my voice announcing—I will sleep no more but arise,You oceans that have been calm within me! how I feel you,fathomless, stirring, preparing unprecedented waves and storms.18See, steamers steaming through my poems,See, in my poems immigrants continually coming and landing,See, in arriere, the wigwam, the trail, the hunter’s hut, the flat-boat,the maize-leaf, the claim, the rude fence, and the backwoods village,See, on the one side the Western Sea and on the other the Eastern Sea,how they advance and retreat upon my poems as upon their own shores,See, pastures and forests in my poems—see, animals wild and tame—see,beyond the Kaw, countless herds of buffalo feeding on short curly grass,See, in my poems, cities, solid, vast, inland, with paved streets,with iron and stone edifices, ceaseless vehicles, and commerce,See, the many-cylinder’d steam printing-press—see, the electrictelegraph stretching across the continent,See, through Atlantica’s depths pulses American Europe reaching,pulses of Europe duly return’d,See, the strong and quick locomotive as it departs, panting, blowingthe steam-whistle,See, ploughmen ploughing farms—see, miners digging mines—see,the numberless factories,See, mechanics busy at their benches with tools—see from among themsuperior judges, philosophs, Presidents, emerge, drest inworking dresses,See, lounging through the shops and fields of the States, mewell-belov’d, close-held by day and night,Hear the loud echoes of my songs there—read the hints come at last.19O camerado close! O you and me at last, and us two only.O a word to clear one’s path ahead endlessly!O something ecstatic and undemonstrable! O music wild!O now I triumph—and you shall also;O hand in hand—O wholesome pleasure—O one more desirer and lover!O to haste firm holding—to haste, haste on with me.