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Ever the grappled mystery of all earth's ages old or new;

Ever the eager eyes, hurrahs, the welcome-clapping hands, the

loud applause;

Ever the soul dissatisfied, curious, unconvinced at last;
Struggling to-day the same — battling the same.

"Going Somewbere."

My science-friend, my noblest woman-friend,

(Now buried in an English grave — and this a memory-leaf for

her dear sake,)

Ended our talk-"The sum, concluding all we know of old or modern learning, intuitions deep,

"Of all Geologies - Histories

Metaphysics all,

of all Astronomy of Evolution,

"Is, that we all are onward, onward, speeding slowly, surely

bettering,

"Life, life an endless march, an endless army, (no halt, but it is

duly over,)

[verses,

"The world, the race, the soul-in space and time the uni"All bound as is befitting each all surely going somewhere."

Small the Theme of My Cbant.

(From the 1867 edition "L. of G.")

SMALL the theme of my Chant, yet the greatest-namely, One'sSelf-a simple, separate person. That, for the use of the

New World, I sing.

Man's physiology complete, from top to toe, I sing. Not physiognomy alone, nor brain alone, is worthy for the Muse;

I say the Form complete is worthier far. The Female equally with the Male, I sing,

Nor cease at the theme of One's-Self. I speak the word of the modern, the word En-Masse.

[less War. My Days I sing, and the Lands—with interstice I knew of hap(O friend, whoe'er you are, at last arriving hither to commence, I feel through every leaf the pressure of your hand, which I return,

And thus upon our journey, footing the road, and more than once, and link'd together let us go.)

True Conquerors.

OLD farmers, travelers, workmen (no matter how crippled or bent,)

Old sailors, out of many a perilous voyage, storm and wreck, Old soldiers from campaigns, with all their wounds, defeats and

scars;

Enough that they 've survived at all-long life's unflinching ones! Forth from their struggles, trials, fights, to have emerged at all -in that alone,

True conquerors o'er all the rest.

The United States to Old World Critics.

HERE first the duties of to-day, the lessons of the concrete,
Wealth, order, travel, shelter, products, plenty;

As of the building of some varied, vast, perpetual edifice, Whence to arise inevitable in time, the towering roofs, the lamps,

The solid-planted spires tall shooting to the stars.

The Calming Thought of All.

THAT Coursing on, whate'er men's speculations,
Amid the changing schools, theologies, philosophies,
Amid the bawling presentations new and old,

The round earth's silent vital laws, facts, modes continue.

Tbanks in Old Age.

THANKS in old age-thanks ere I go,

For health, the midday sun, the impalpable air—for life, mere life, For precious ever-lingering memories, (of you my mother dear -you, father-you, brothers, sisters, friends,)

For all my days-not those of peace alone - the days of war the same,

For gentle words, caresses, gifts from foreign lands,

For shelter, wine and meat-for sweet appreciation,

(You distant, dim unknown or young or old-countless, un

specified, readers belov'd,

We never met, and ne'er shall meet- and yet our souls embrace,

long, close and long;)

For beings, groups, love, deeds, words, books-for colors, forms, For all the brave strong men-devoted, hardy men-who 've forward sprung in freedom's help, all years, all lands.

For braver, stronger, more devoted men — (a special laurel ere I

go, to life's war's chosen ones,

The cannoneers of song and thought — the great artillerists -- the

foremost leaders, captains of the soul:)

As soldier from an ended war return'd-As traveler out of myriads, to the long procession retrospective,

Thanks - joyful thanks!—a soldier's, traveler's thanks.

Life and Deatb.

THE two old, simple problems ever intertwined,
Close home, elusive, present, baffled, grappled,
By each successive age insoluble, pass'd on,
To ours to-day-—and we pass on the same.

The Voice of the Rain.

AND who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower,

Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated: I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,

Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea, Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form'd, altogether changed,

and yet the same,

end to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the globe,

that in them without me were seeds only, latent, unrn;

ever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin, nd make pure and beautify it;

(For song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfilment, wan

dering,

Reck'd or unreck'd, duly with love returns.)

Soon sball tbe Winter's Foil Be bere.

SOON shall the winter's foil be here;

Soon shall these icy ligatures unbind and melt-A little while, And air, soil, wave, suffused shall be in softness, bloom and

growth a thousand forms shall rise

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From these dead clods and chills as from low burial graves.

Thine eyes, ears-all thy best attributes-all that takes cognizance of natural beauty,

Shall wake and fill. Thou shalt perceive the simple shows, the delicate miracles of earth,

[flowers, Dandelions, clover, the emerald grass, the early scents and The arbutus under foot, the willow's yellow-green, the blossoming plum and cherry;

With these the robin, lark and thrush, singing their songs - the

flitting bluebird;

For such the scenes the annual play brings on.

Wabile Not the Past Forgetting.

(Publish'd May 30, 1888.)

WHILE not the past forgetting,

To-day, at least, contention sunk entire-peace, brotherhood

uprisen;

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