(Wild-flowers and vines and weeds come up through the stones, and partly cover them-Beyond these I pass,) Far, far in the forest, before I think where I go, Solitary, smelling the earthy smell, stopping now and then in the silence, Alone I had thought-yet soon a' troop gathers around me, ΤΟ Some walk by my side, and some behind, and some embrace my arms or neck, They, the spirits of dear friends, dead or alive-thicker they come, a great crowd, and I in the middle, Collecting, dispensing, singing in spring, there I wander with them, Plucking something for tokens3-tossing toward whoever is near me; Here! lilac, with a branch of pine, Here, out of my pocket, some moss which I pull'd off a live-oak in Florida, as it hung trailing down, Here, some pinks and laurel leaves, and a handful of sage, side, (O here I last saw him that tenderly loves me—and returns again, never to separate from me, And this, O this shall henceforth be the token of comradesthis Calamus-root shall, 20 Interchange it, youths, with each other! Let none render it back!) And twigs of maple, and a bunch of wild orange, and chest nut, And stems of currants, and plum-blows, and the aromatic cedar : These, I, compass'd around by a thick cloud of spirits, Wandering, point to, or touch as I pass, or throw them loosely from me, Indicating to each one what he shall have-giving something to each; But what I drew from the water by the pond-side, that I reserve, I will give of it—but only to them that love, as I myself am capable of loving. 1 1860 '67 read "yet soon a silent troop." 2 46 dear" added in 1870. 3 1860 reads "something for these till I hit upon a name-tossing," etc. A SONG. First published in 1860. See note. I COME, I will make the continent indissoluble; I will make the most splendid race the sun ever yet shone upon; I will make divine magnetic lands, "With the love of comrades, With the life-long love of comrades. 2 I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers of America, and along the shores of the great lakes, and all over the prairies; I will make inseparable cities, with their arms about each other's necks; By the love of comrades, By the manly love of comrades. 3 For you these, from me, O Democracy, to serve you, ma femme ! For you! for you, I am trilling these songs, In the love of comrades, In the high-towering love of comrades. ΙΟ NOT HEAVING FROM MY RIBB'D BREAST ONLY. First published in 1860. NoT heaving from my ribb'd breast only; Not in sighs at night, in rage, dissatisfied with myself; Not in many an oath and promise broken; 1 "Come" added in 1867. "Edition 2 Lines 4, 5, 8, 9, 12, 13, added in 1867. With these exceptions this poem is composed of verses 13, 14 and 15 of the 5th poem in "Calamus' of 1860, beginning "States! Were you looking to be held together by lawyers?" See page 469. Not in this beating and pounding at my temples and wrists; Not in the curious systole and diastole within, which will one day cease; Not in many a hungry wish, told to the skies only; Not in cries, laughter, defiances, thrown from me when alone, far in the wilds; Not in husky pantings through clench'd teeth; ΙΟ Not in sounded and resounded words-chattering words, echoes, dead words; Not in the murmurs of my dreams while I sleep, Nor the other murmurs of these incredible dreams of every day; Nor in the limbs and senses of my body, that take you and dis miss you continually-Not there; Not in any or all of them, O adhesiveness! O pulse of my life! Need I that you exist and show yourself, any more than in these songs. OF THE TERRIBLE DOUBT OF APPEARANCES. First published in 1860. Or the terrible doubt of appearances, Of the uncertainty after all—that we may be deluded,' shining and flowing waters, The skies of day and night-colors, densities, forms-May-be these are, (as doubtless they are,) only apparitions, and the real something has yet to be known; (How often they dart out of themselves, as if to confound me and mock me! How often I think neither I know, nor any man knows, aught of them ;) May-be seeming to me what they are,' (as doubtless they indeed but seem,) as from my present point of view-And might prove, (as of course they would,) naught of what they appear, or naught any how, from entirely changed points of view; 1 "that we may be deluded" added in 1867. 2 1860 reads " May-be they only seem to me what they are." -To me, these, and the like of these, are curiously answer'd by my lovers, my dear friends; ΙΟ When he whom I love travels with me, or sits a long while holding me by the hand, When the subtle air, the impalpable, the sense that words and reason hold not, surround us and pervade us, Then I am charged with untold and untellable wisdom-I am silent-I require nothing further, I cannot answer the question of appearances, or that of identity beyond the grave; But I walk or sit indifferent-I am satisfied, He ahold of my hand has completely satisfied me. THE BASE OF ALL METAPHYSICS. First published in 1870. AND now, gentlemen, A word I give to remain in your memories and minds, (So, to the students, the old professor, At the close of his crowded course.) Having studied the new and antique, the Greek and Germanic systems, Kant having studied and stated-Fichte and Schelling and Hegel, Stated the lore of Plato-and Socrates, greater than Plato, I see reminiscent to-day those Greek and Germanic systems, 10 divine I see, The dear love of man for his comrade-the attraction of friend to friend, Of the well-married husband and wife-of children and parents, Of city for city, and land for land. RECORDERS AGES HENCE. First published in 1860. RECORDERS ages hence !1 Come, I will take you down underneath this impassive exterior -I will tell you what to say of me; Publish my name and hang up my picture as that of the tenderest lover, The friend, the lover's portrait, of whom his friend, his lover, was fondest, Who was not proud of his songs, but of the measureless ocean of love within him-and freely pour'd it forth, Who often walk'd lonesome walks, thinking of his dear friends, his lovers, Who pensive, away from one he lov'd, often lay sleepless and dissatisfied at night, Who knew too well the sick, sick dread lest the one he lov'd might secretly be indifferent to him, Whose happiest days were far away, through fields, in woods, on hills, he and another, wandering hand in hand, they twain, apart from other men, Who oft as he saunter'd the streets, curv'd with his arm the shoulder of his friend-while the arm of his friend rested upon him also, WHEN I HEARD AT THE CLOSE OF THE DAY. First published in 1860. WHEN I heard at the close of the day how my name had been receiv'd with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a happy night for me that follow'd; And else, when I carous'd, or when my plans were accomplish'd, still I was not happy; But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health, refresh'd, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn, When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in the morning light, 11860 reads "You bards of ages hence! when you refer to me, mind not so much my poems, Nor speak of me that I prophesied of the States, and led them the way of their glories; But come, I will take you," etc. |