The driver, thinking of me, does not mind the jolt of his wagon, The young mother and old mother comprehend me, The girl and the wife rest the needle a moment, and forget where they are, They and all would resume what I have told them. 343. I have said that the Soul is not more than the body, And I have said that the body is not more than the Soul, And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's self is, And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy, And to glance with an eye, or show a bean in its And there is no object so soft but it makes a hub And any man or woman shall stand cool and supercilious before a million universes. 344. And I call to mankind, Be not curious about God, For I, who am curious about each, am not curious about God, No array of terms can say how much I am at peace about God, and about death. 345. I hear and behold God in every object, yet understand God not in the least, Nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful than myself. 346. Why should I wish to see God better than this day? I see something of God each hour of the twentyfour, and each moment then, In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my own face in the glass, I find letters from God dropped in the street-and every one is signed by God's name, And I leave them where they are, for I know that others will punctually come forever and ever. 347. And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm me. 348. To his work without flinching the accoucheur comes, I see the elder-hand, pressing, receiving, supporting, I recline by the sills of the exquisite flexible doors, and mark the outlet, and mark the relief and escape. 349. And as to you corpse, I think you are good manure, but that does not offend me, I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing, I reach to the leafy lips-I reach to the polished breasts of melons. 350. And as to you life, I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths, No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before. 351. I hear you whispering there, O stars of heaven, O suns! O grass of graves! O perpetual transfers and promotions! If you do not say anything, how can I say anything? 352. Of the turbid pool that lies in the autumn forest, Of the moon that descends the steeps of the soughing twilight, Toss, sparkles of day and dusk! toss on the black stems that decay in the muck! Toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry limbs. 353. I ascend from the moon, I ascend from the night, I perceive of the ghastly glimmer the sunbeams reflected, And debouch to the steady and central from the offspring great or small. 354. There is that in me I do not know what it isbut I know it is in me. 355. Wrenched and sweaty - calm and cool then my body becomes, I sleep- I sleep long. 356. I do not know it—it is without name-it is a word unsaid, It is not in any dictionary, utterance, symbol. 357. Something it swings on more than the earth I swing on, To it the creation is the friend whose embracing awakes me. 358. Perhaps I might tell more. my brothers and sisters. Outlines! I plead for 359. Do you see, O my brothers and sisters? It is not chaos or death—it is form, union, plan it is eternal life—it is HAPPINESS. 360. The past and present wilt-I have filled them, emptied them, And proceed to fill my next fold of the future. 361. Listener up there! Here you! What have you to confide to me? Look in my face, while I snuff the sidle of evening, only a minute longer. 362. Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself, I am large- I contain multitudes. 363. I concentrate toward them that are nigh—I wait on the door-slab. 364. Who has done his day's work? Who will soonest be through with his supper? Who wishes to walk with me? 365. Will you speak before I am gone? Will you prove already too late? 366. The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me he complains of my gab and my loitering. 367. I too am not a bit tamed -I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world. 368. The last scud of day holds back for me, It flings my likeness, after the rest, and true as any, on the shadowed wilds, It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk. 369. I depart as air run-away sun, I shake my white locks at the I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags. 370. I bequeath myself to the dirt, to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again, look for me under your bootsoles. 371. You will hardly know who I am, or what I mean, But I shall be good health to you nevertheless, And filter and fibre your blood. 372. Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged, Missing me one place, search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you. CHANTS DEMOCRATIC AND NATIVE AMERICAN. APOSTROPH. O mater! O fils! O brood continental ! O flowers of the prairies! O space boundless! O hum of mighty products! O you teeming cities! O so invincible, turbulent, proud! O race of the future! O women! O fathers! O you men of passion and the storm! O yourself! O God! O divine average! O you bearded roughs! O bards! O all those slumberers! O arouse! the dawn-bird's throat sounds shrill! Do you not hear the cock crowing? O, as I walk'd the beach, I heard the mournful notes foreboding a tempest the low, oft-repeated shriek of the diver, the long-lived loon; OI heard, and yet hear, angry thunder; -O you sailors! O ships! make quick preparation! O from his masterful sweep, the warning cry of the eagle! (Give way there, all! It is useless! Give up your spoils ;) O sarcasms! Propositions! (O if the whole world should prove indeed a sham, a sell!) OI believe there is nothing real but America and freedom! O to sternly reject all except Democracy! O imperator! Ŏ who dare confront you and me? O to promulgate our own! O to build for that which builds for mankind! O feuillage! O North! O the slope drained by the Mexican sea! |