Section 25

The Great Sea, the brood of islands, Polynesia, the coast beyond ;
The coast you, henceforth, are facing—you Libertad! from your Western golden shores
The countries there, with their populations—the millions en- masse, are curiously here ;
The swarming market places—the temples, with idols ranged along the sides, or at the end—bonze, brahmin, and lama ;
The mandarin, farmer, merchant, mechanic, and fisherman ;
The singing-girl and the dancing-girl—the ecstatic person*— the secluded Emperors,
Confucius himself—the great poets and heroes—the warriors, the castes, all,
Trooping up, crowding from all directions—from the Altay
mountains, From Thibet—from the four winding and far-flowing rivers of China, 50
From the Southern peninsulas, and the demi-continental islands —from Malaysia ;
These, and whatever belongs to them, palpable, show forth to me, and are seiz’d by me,
And I am seiz’d by them, and friendlily held by them,
Till, as here, them all I chant, Libertad! for themselves and for you.
‘from his island’? added in 1870.
1870 reads ‘*the whole Asiatic continent,’’ etc.
““eastern’’ added in 1870.
Drum Taps reads ‘‘ the ecstatic person—the divine Buddha,’’ etc.
A BROADWAY PAGEANT 233
5
For I too, raising my voice, join the ranks of this pageant ;
I am the chanter—I chant aloud over the pageant ;
I chant the world on my Western Sea ;
I chant, copious, the islands beyond, thick as stars in the sky ;
I chant the new empire, grander than any before—As in a vision it comes to me ;
I chant America, the Mistress—I chant a greater supremacy ; 60
I chant, projected, a thousand blooming cities yet, in time, on those groups of sea-islands ;
I chant my sail-ships and steam- ships threading the archipela- goes ;
I chant my stars and stripes fluttering in the wind ;
I chant commerce opening, the sleep of ages having done its work—races, reborn, refresh’d ;
Lives, works, resumed—The object I know not—but the old, the Asiatic, renew’d,' as it must be,
Commencing from this day, surrounded by the world.
6
And you, Libertad of the world!
You shall sit in the middle, well-pois’d, thousands of years ;
As to-day, from one side, the nobles’ of Asia come to you ;
As to-morrow, from the other side, the Queen of England sends her eldest son to you. 70
7
The sign is reversing, the orb is enclosed,
The ring is circled, the journey is done ;
The box-lid is but perceptibly open’d—nevertheless the perfume pours copiously out of the whole box.
8
Young Libertad !
With the vénerable Asia, the all-mother,
Be considerate with her, now and ever, hot Libertad—for you are all;
1 Drum Taps. For “ renew’d’? reads ‘‘ resumed,”’ 2 Drum Taps. For ‘‘nobles’’ reads ‘‘ princes.”
234. LEAVES OF GRASS
Bend your proud neck to the long-off mother, now sending mes- sages over the archipelagoes to you ; Bend your proud neck low for once, young Libertad.
y)
Were the children straying westward so long ? so wide the tramp- ing?
Were the precedent dim ages debouching westward from Paradise so long ? 80
Were the centuries steadily footing it that way, all the while un- known, for you, for reasons?
They are justified—they are accomplish’d—they shall now be turn’d the other way also, to travel toward you thence ; They shall now also march obediently eastward, for your sake, Libertad. &*
THOUGHT.
- First published in 1867.
OF persons arrived at high positions, ceremonies, wealth, scholar- ships, and the like ;
To me, all that those persons have arrived at, sinks away from them, except as it results to their Bodies and Souls,
So that often to me they appear gaunt and naked ;
And often, to me, each one mocks the others, and mocks himself or herself,
And of each one, the core of life, namely happiness, is full of the rotten excrement of maggots,
And often, to me, those men and women pass unwittingly the true realities of life, and go toward false realities,
And often, to me, they are alive after what custom has served them, but nothing more,
And often, to me, they are sad, hasty, unwaked sonnambules, walking the dusk.
*
THERE WAS A CHILD WENT FORTH.
First published in 1855. In edition of 1856 under title of ‘‘ Poem of the Child That Went Forth, and Always Goes Forth, Forever and Forever.”
THERE was a child went forth every day ; And the first object he look’d upon,’ that object he became ;
1 185556 ’60, After ‘‘look’d upon”? read ‘‘and.received with wonder, pity, love, or dread,’’ etc.
LEAVES OF GRASS 235
And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years.
The early lilacs became part of this child,
And grass, and white and red morning-glories, and white and red clover, and the song of the pheebe-bird,
And the Third-month' lambs, and the sow’s pink-faint litter, and the mare’s foal, and the cow’s calf,
And the noisy brood of the barn-yard, or by the mire of the pond-side,
And the fish suspending themselves so curiously below there— and the beautiful curious liquid,
And the water-plants with their graceful flat heads—all became part of him.
The field-sprouts of Fourth-month? and Fifth-month became part of him ; IO
Winter-grain sprouts, and those of the light-yellow corn, and the esculent roots of the garden,
And the apple-trees cover’d with blossoms, and the fruit after- ward, and wood-berries, and the commonest weeds by the road ;
And the old drunkard staggering home from the out-house of the tavern, whence he had lately risen,
And the school-mistress that pass’d on her way to the school,
And the friendly boys that pass’d—and the quarrelsome boys,
And the tidy and fresh-cheek’d girls—and the barefoot negro boy and girl,
And all the changes of city and country, wherever he went.
His own parents,
He that had father’d him, and she that had conceiv’d him in her womb, and birth’d him,
They gave this child more of themselves than that ;
They gave him afterward every day—they became part of him.®
The mother at home, quietly placing the dishes on the supper- table ;
1185556. For “ Third-month”’ read ‘‘ March born.”’ 21855 56, For ‘¢Fourth-month and Fifth-month’’ read ‘ April and
2 1855 ’56 ’60 read ‘‘ they and of them became part of him,’’
236 LEAVES OF GRASS
The mother with mild words—clean her cap and gown, a whole- some odor falling off her person and clothes as she walks by;
The father, strong, self-sufficient, manly, mean, anger’d, unjust ;
The blow, the quick loud word, the tight bargain, the crafty lure,
The family usages, the language, the company, the furniture— the yearning and swelling heart,
Affection that will not be gainsay’d—the sense of what is real— the thought if, after all, it should prove unreal,
The doubts of day-time and the doubts of night-time—the curi- ous whether and how,
Whether that which appears so is so, or is it all flashes and
specks ? Men and women crowding fast in the streets—if they are not flashes and specks, what are they? 30
The streets themselves, and the facades of houses, and goods in the windows,
Vehicles, teams, the heavy-plank’d' wharves—the huge crossing at the ferries,
The village on the highland, seen from afar at sunset—the river between,
Shadows, aureola and mist, the light falling on roofs and gables of white or brown, three miles off,
The schooner near by, sleepily dropping down the tide—the little boat slack-tow’d astern,
The hurrying tumbling waves, quick-broken crests, slapping,
The strata of color’d clouds, the long bar of maroon-tint, away solitary by itself—the spread of purity it lies motionless in,
The horizon’s edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance of salt marsh and shore mud ;
These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes, and will always go forth every day.’
&*
LONGINGS FOR HOME. First published in 1860.
O MAGNET-SouTH! O glistening, perfumed South! My South! O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse, and love! Good and evil! O all dear to me!
1 7855 56. For ‘ heavy-plank’d”’ read ‘tiered.’’ 2 1855 ’56 add ‘* And these become part of him or her peruses them now.” 1860 reads ‘‘ And these become part of him or her peruses them here.’’
LONGINGS FOR HOME 237
O dear to me my birth- -things—All moving things, and the trees where I was born—the grains, plants, rivers ;
Dear to me my own slow sluggish rivers where they flow, distant, over flats of silvery sands, or through swamps ;
Dear to me the Roanoke, the Savannah, the Altamahaw, the Pedee, the Tombigbee, the Santee, the Coosa, and the Sabine ;
O pensive, far away wandering, I return with my Soul to haunt their banks again ;
Again in Florida I float on transparent lakes—I float on the Okeechobee—I cross the hummock land, or through pleasant openings, or dense forests ;
I see the parrots in the woods—I see the papaw tree and the blossoming titi ;
Again, sailing in my coaster, on deck, I coast off Georgia—l coast up the Carolinas,
I see where the live-oak is growing—I see where the yellow-pine, the scented bay-tree, the lemon and orange, the cypress, the graceful palmetto ; ie)
I pass rude sea-headlands and enter Pamlico Sound through an inlet, and dart my vision inland ;
O the cotton plant! the growing fields of rice, sugar, hemp !
The cactus, guarded with thorns—the laurel-tree, with large white flowers ;
The range afar—the richness and barrenness—the old woods charged with mistletoe and trailing moss,
The piney odor and the gloom—the awful natural stillness, (Here in these dense swamps the freebooter carries his gun, and the fugitive slave has his conceal’d hut ;)
O the strange fascination of these half-known, half-impassable swamps, infested by reptiles, resounding with the bellow of the alligator, the sad noises of the night-owl and the wild-cat, and the whirr of the rattlesnake ;
The mocking-bird, the American mimic, singing all the forenoon —singing through the moon-lit night,
The humming-bird, the wild turkey, the raccoon, the opossum ;
A Tennessee corn-field—the tall, graceful, long-leav’d corn— slender, flapping, bright green with tassels—with beauti- ful ears, each well-sheath’d in its husk ;
An Arkansas prairie—a sleeping lake, or still bayou ; 20
O my heart! O tender and fierce pangs—I can stand them not —I will depart ;
O to be a Virginian, where I grew up! O to be a Carolinian!
238 LEAVES OF GRASS
O longings irrepressible! OI will go back to old Tennessee, and never wander more !
5d
YOU FELONS ON TRIAL IN COURTS.
First published in 1860. See ‘‘O Bitter Sprig! Confession Sprig !”’ page 468.
You felons on trial in courts ;
You convicts in prison-cells—you sentenced assassins, chain’d and hand-cuff’d with iron ;
Who am I, too,’ that I am not on trial, or in prison?
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain’d with iron, or my ankles with iron?
You prostitutes flaunting over the trottoirs, or obscene in your rooms, Who am I, that I should call you more obscene than myself?
O culpable !?
I acknowledge—I exposé !
(O admirers! praise not me! compliment not me! you make me wince,
I see what you do not—I know what you do not.) Io
Inside these breast-bones I lie smutch’d and choked ;
Beneath this face that appears so impassive, hell’s tides continu- ally run ;
Lusts and wickedness are acceptable to me ;
I walk with delinquents with passionate love ;
I feel I am of them—I belong to those convicts and prostitutes myself,
And henceforth I will not deny them—for how can I deny myself?
a»
TO A COMMON PROSTITUTE. First published in 1860. Br composed—bé at ease with me—I am Walt Whitman, liberal and lusty as Nature ; Not till the sun excludes you, do I exclude you ;
1 “too” added in 1867. 2 1860 ’67 read ‘‘O culpable! O traitor !”?
TO A PRESIDENT 239
Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you, and the leaves to rustle for you, do my words refuse to glisten and rustle for you.
My girl, I appoint with you an appointment—and I charge you that you make preparation to be worthy to meet me, And I charge you that you be patient and perfect till I come.
Till then, I salute you with a significant look, that you do not forget me. &
I WAS LOOKING A LONG WHILE. First published in 1860.
I was looking a long while for a clue to! the history of the past for myself, and for these chants—and now I have found it ;
It is not in those paged fables in the libraries, (them I neither accept nor reject ;)
It is no more in the legends than in all else ;
It is in the present—it is this earth to-day ;
It is in Democracy—(the purport and aim of all the past ;)?
It is the life of one man or one woman to-day—the average man of to-day ;
It is in® languages, social customs, literatures, arts ;
It is in* the broad show of artificial things, ships, machinery, politics, creeds, modern improvements, and the inter- change of nations,
All for the average man of to-day.
&
TO A PRESIDENT. First published in 1860.
ALL you are doing and saying is to America dangled mirages ; You have not learn’d of Nature—of the politics of Nature, you have not learn’d the great amplitude, rectitude, impartiality ; 1 «a clue to’’ added in 1870, 2 1856 ’60 read “ It is in Democracy, in this America, the old world also,’?
8 4
240 LEAVES OF GRASS
You have not seen that only such as they are for These States, And that what is less than they, must sooner or later lift off from These States. 5d
TO THE STATES.
To IDENTIFY THE 16TH, 17TH, OR 18TH PRESIDENTIAD. First published in 1860.
Why reclining, interrogating? Why myself and all drowsing?
What deepening twilight! scum floating atop of the waters!
Who are they, as bats and night-dogs, askant in the Capitol ?
What a filthy Presidentiad! (O south, your torrid suns! O north, your arctic freezings !)
Are those really Congressmen? are those the great Judges? is that the President ?
Then I will sleep awhile yet—for I see that These States sleep, for reasons ;
(With gathering murk—with muttering thunder and lambent shoots, we all duly awake,
South, north, east, west, inland and seaboard, we will surely awake. )
DRUM-TAPS.
First published in 1870.
Aroused and angry,
L thought to beat the alarum, and urge relentless war;
But soon my fingers fail’d me, my face droop d, and I resign’ d myself,
To sit by the wounded and soothe them, or silently watch the dead.
&*
DRUM-TAPS. First published in ‘“‘ Drum-Taps,” 1865. ic First, O songs, for a prelude,
Lightly strike on the stretch’d tympanum, pride and joy in my city,
DRUM-TAPS 241
How she led the rest to arms—how she gave the cue, How at once with lithe limbs, unwaiting a moment, she sprang ; (O superb! O Manhattan, my own, my peerless ! O strongest you in the hour of danger, in crisis! O truer than steel !) How you sprang! how you threw off the costumes of peace with indifferent hand ; ' How your soft opera-music changed, and the drum and fife were heard in their stead ; ‘How you led to the war, (that shall serve for our prelude, songs of soldiers, ) ji How Manhattan drum-taps led. ike)
2
Forty years had I in my city seen soldiers parading ;
Forty years as a pageant—till unawares, the Lady of this teem- ing and turbulent city,
Sleepless amid her ships, her houses, her incalculable wealth,
With her million children around her—suddenly,
At dead of night, at news from the south,
Incens’d, struck with clench’d hand the pavement.
A shock electric—the night sustain’d it,; Till with ominous hum, our hive at day-break pour’d out its myriads.
From the houses then, and the workshops, and through all the doorways, Leapt.they tumultuous—and lo! Manhattan arming. 20
3
To the drum-taps prompt,
The young men falling in and arming ;
The mechanics arming, (the trowel, the jack-plane, the black- smith’s hammer, tost aside with precipitation ; )
The lawyer leaving his office, and arming—the judge leaving the court ;
The driver deserting his wagon in the street, jumping down, throwing the reins abruptly down on the horses’ backs ;
The salesman leaving the store—the boss, book-keeper, porter,
all leaving ; ' 16
242 LEAVES OF GRASS
Squads gather’ everywhere by common consent, and arm ;?
The new recruits, even boys—the old men show them how to wear their accoutrements—they buckle the straps care- fully ;
Outdoors arming—indoors arming—the flash of the musket- barrels ;
The white tents cluster in camps—the arm’d sentries around— the sunrise cannon, and again at sunset ; 30
Arm’d regiments arrive every day, pass through the city, and embark from the wharves ;
(How good they look, as they tramp down to the river, sweaty, with their guns on their shoulders !
How I love them! how I could hug them, with their brown faces, and their clothes and knapsacks cover’d with dust !)
The blood of the city up—arm’d ! arm’d! the cry everywhere ;
The flags flung out from the steeples of churches, and from all the public buildings and stores ;
The tearful parting—the mother kisses her son—the son kisses his mother ;
(Loth is the mother to part—yet not a word does she speak to detain him ;)
The tumultuous escort—the ranks of policemen preceding, clear- ing the way;
The unpent enthusiasm—the wild cheers of the crowd for their favorites ;