And with them the key, the word up from the waves, That strong and delicious word which, creeping to my feet, The Sea whispered me. CROSSING BROOKLYN FERRY. I. LOOD-TIDE below me! I watch you face to face; FLOO Clouds of the west! sun there half an hour high! I see you also face to face. 2. Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes, how curious you are to me! On the ferry-boats the hundreds and hundreds that cross, returning home, are more curious to me than you suppose; And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose. 3. The impalpable sustenance of me from all things, at all hours of the day; The simple, compact, well-joined scheme—myself disintegrated, every one disintegrated, yet part of the scheme; The similitudes of the past, and those of the future; The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings on the walk in the street, and the passage over the river ; The current rushing so swiftly, and swimming with me far away; The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them : The certainty of others—the life, love, sight, hearing, of others. Others will enter the gates of the ferry, and cross from shore to shore; Others will watch the run of the flood-tide; Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the heights of Brooklyn to the south and east; Others will see the islands large and small; Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half an hour high; A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others will see them, Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring-in of the flood-tide, the falling-back to the sea of the ebb-tide. It avails not, neither time or place—distance avails not; I am with you—you men and women of a generation, or ever so many generations hence; I project myself also I return—I am with you, and know how it is. Just as you felt; feel when you look on the river and sky, so I Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd; Just as you are refreshed by the gladness of the river and the bright flow, I was refreshed; Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current, I stood, yet was hurried; Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships, and the thick-stemmed pipes of steamboats, I looked. I too many and many a time crossed the river, the sun half an hour high; I watched the twelfth-month sea-gulls—I saw them high in the air, floating with motionless wings, oscillating their bodies, S I saw how the glistening yellow lit up parts of their bodies, and left the rest in strong shadow, I saw the slow-wheeling circles, and the gradual edging toward the south. I too saw the reflect!on. of the summer sky in the water, Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams, Looked at the fine centrifugal spokes of light round the shape of my head in the sun-lit water, Looked on the haze on the hills southward and south westward, Looked on the vapour as it flew in fleeces tinged with violet, Looked toward the lower bay to notice the arriving ships, Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me, Saw the white sails of schooners and sloops, saw the ships at anchor, The sailors at work in the rigging, or out astride the spars, The round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls, the slender serpentine pennants, The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in their pilot-houses, The white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous whirl of the wheels, The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sunset, The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled cups, the frolicsome crests and glistening, The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the grey walls of the granite store-houses by the docks, On the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug closely flanked on each side by the barges—the hay-boat, the belated lighter, On the neighbouring shore, the fires from the foundry chimneys burning high and glaringly into the night, Casting their flicker of black, contrasted with wild red and yellow light, over the tops of houses, and down into the clefts of streets. These, and all else, were to me the same as they are to you; I project myself a moment to tell you—also I return. I loved well those cities; I loved well the stately and rapid river; The men and women I saw were all near to me; Others the same—others who look back on me because I looked forward to them; The time will come, though I stop here to-day and to-night. What is it, then, between us? |