O BITTER SPRIG! CONFESSION SPRIG! In 1860 these verses begin the Poem "You Felons on Trial in Courts." See page 238. O BITTER Sprig! Confession sprig! In the bouquet I give you place also-I bind you in, I give fair warning, once for all. I own that I have been sly, thievish, mean, a prevaricator, greedy, derelict, And I own that I remain so yet. What foul thought but I think it—or have in me the stuff out of which it is thought? What in darkness in bed at night, alone or with a companion? SO FAR AND SO FAR, AND ON TOWARD THE END. Published in edition of 1860. So far, and so far, and on toward the end, Singing what is sung in this book, from the irresistible impulses of me; But whether I continue beyond this book, to maturity, Whether I shall dart forth the true rays, the ones that wait un fired, (Did you think the sun was shining its brightest? No-it has not yet fully risen ;) Whether I shall complete what is here started, Whether I shall attain my own height, to justify these, yet un finished, Whether I shall make THE POEM OF THE NEW WORLD, transcending all others-depends, rich persons, upon you, Depends, whoever you are now filling the current Presidentiad, upon you, Upon you, Governor, Mayor, Congressman, And you, contemporary America. 10 IN THE NEW GARDEN IN ALL THE PARTS. Published in edition of 1860. In the new garden, in all the parts, In cities now, modern, I wander, Though the second or third result, or still further, primitive yet, Days, places, indifferent-though various, the same, Time, Paradise, the Mannahatta, the prairies, finding me unchanged, Death indifferent-Is it that I lived long since? Was I buried very long ago ? For all that, may now be watching you here, this moment; For the future, with determined will, I seek-the woman of the future, You, born years, centuries after me, I seek. STATES! Published in 1860, in which edition the poem concludes with verses published in 1870 under title of "A Song." See page 123. STATES! Were you looking to be held together by the lawyers? By an agreement on a paper? Or by arms? Away! I arrive, bringing these, beyond all the forces of courts and arms, These! to hold you together as firmly as the earth itself is held together. The old breath of life, ever new, Here! I pass it by contact to you, America. O mother! have you done much for me? Behold, there shall from me be much done for you. 10 There shall from me be a new friendship-It shall be called after my name, It shall circulate through The States, indifferent of place, It shall twist and intertwist them through and around each other -Compact shall they be, showing new signs, Affection shall solve every one of the problems of freedom, Those who love each other shall be invincible, They shall finally make America completely victorious, in my name. One from Massachusetts shall be comrade to a Missourian, One from Maine or Vermont, and a Carolinian and an Oregonese, shall be friends triune, more precious to each other than all the riches of the earth. To Michigan shall be wafted perfume from Florida, 20 Not the perfume of flowers, but sweeter, and wafted beyond death. No danger shall balk Columbia's lovers, If need be, a thousand shall sternly immolate themselves for one, The Kanuck shall be willing to lay down his life for the Kansian, and the Kansian for the Kanuck, on due need. It shall be customary in all directions, in the houses and streets, to see manly affection, The departing brother or friend shall salute the remaining brother or friend with a kiss. There shall be innovations, There shall be countless linked hands—namely, the Northeasterner's, and the Northwesterner's, and the Southwesterner's, and those of the interior, and all their brood, These shall be masters of the world under a new power, They shall laugh to scorn the attacks of all the remainder of the world. The most dauntless and rude shall touch face to face lightly, The continuance of Equality shall be comrades. These shall tie and band stronger than hoops of iron, 30 I, extatic, O partners! O lands! henceforth with the love of lovers tie you. LONG I THOUGHT THAT KNOWLEDGE. Published in 1860. LONG I thought that knowledge alone would suffice me --O if I could but obtain knowledge! Then my lands engrossed me-Lands of the prairies, Ohio's land, the southern savannas, engrossed me--For them I would live-I would be their orator; Then I met the examples of old and new heroes-I heard of warriors, sailors, and all dauntless persons-And it seemed to me that I too had it in me to be as dauntless as any-and would be so; And then, to enclose all, it came to me to strike up the songs of the New World-And then I believed my life must be spent in singing; But now take notice, land of the prairies, land of the south savannas, Ohio's land, Take notice, you Kanuck woods-and you Lake Huron-and all that with you roll toward Niagara-and you Niagara also, And you, Californian mountains-That you each and all find somebody else to be your singer of songs, For I can be your singer of songs no longer-One who loves me is jealous of me, and withdraws me from all but love, With the rest I dispense-I sever from what I thought would suffice me, for it does not-it is now empty and tasteless to me, I heed knowledge, and the grandeur of The States, and the example of heroes, no more, ΙΟ I am indifferent to my own songs-I will go with him I love, again. HOURS CONTINUING LONG, SORE AND HEAVY-HEARTED. Published in 1860. HOURS continuing long, sore and heavy-hearted, Hours of the dusk, when I withdraw to a lonesome and unfrequented spot, seating myself, leaning my face in my hands; Hours sleepless, deep in the night, when I go forth, speeding swiftly the country roads, or through the city streets, or pacing miles and miles, stifling plaintive cries; Hours discouraged, distracted-for the one I cannot content myself without, soon I saw him content himself without me; Hours when I am forgotten, (O weeks and months are passing, but I believe I am never to forget!) Sullen and suffering hours! (I am ashamed-but it is useless-I am what I am ;) Hours of my torment-I wonder if other men ever have the like, out of the like feelings? Is there even one other like me -distracted-his friend, his i lover, lost to him? Is he too as I am now? Does he still rise in the morning, dejected, thinking who is lost to him? and at night, awaking, think who is lost? Does he too harbor his friendship silent and endless? harbor his anguish and passion? ΙΟ Does some stray reminder, or the casual mention of a name, bring the fit back upon him, taciturn and deprest? Does he see himself reflected in me? In these hours, does he see the face of his hours reflected? WHO IS NOW READING THIS? WHO is now reading this? Published in 1860. May-be one is now reading this who knows some wrong-doing of my past life, Or may -be a stranger is reading this who has secretly loved me, Or may-be one who meets all my grand assumptions and egotisms with derision, Or may-be one who is puzzled at me. As if I were not puzzled at myself! Or as if I never deride myself! (O conscience-struck! O sel! convicted!) Or as if I do not secretly love strangers! (O tenderly, a long time, and never avow it ;) Or as if I did not see, perfectly well, interior in myself, the stuff of wrong-doing, Or as if it could cease transpiring from me until it must cease. |