TO get betimes in Boston town, I rose this morning early;
Walt Whitman
A WOMAN waits for me—she contains all, nothing is lacking,
ADIEU, O soldier!
AN old man’s thought of School;
AS I sat alone, by blue Ontario’s shore,
AS the time draws nigh, glooming, a cloud,
ASHES of soldiers!
WOMEN sit, or move to and fro—some old, some young;
BROTHER of all, with generous hand,
COME up from the fields, father, here’s a letter from our Pete;
A GREAT year and place;
FROM Paumanock starting, I fly like a bird,
FULL of life, now, compact, visible,
THOUGHT of the Infinite—the All!
I DREAM’D in a dream, I saw a city invincible to the attacks of the whole of the rest of
I SING the Body electric;
IN former songs Pride have I sung, and Love, and passionate, joyful Life,
THROUGH the soft evening air enwrinding all,
LOCATIONS and times—what is it in me that meets them all, whenever and wherever, and
O MAGNET-SOUTH! O glistening, perfumed South! My South!
LOOK down, fair moon, and bathe this scene;
MANHATTAN’S streets I saunter’d, pondering,
WHY! who makes much of a miracle?
I SEE the sleeping babe, nestling the breast of its mother;
NATIVE moments! when you come upon me—Ah you are here now!
O ME! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
O STAR of France!
O SUN of real peace! O hastening light!
ON journeys through the States we start,
ON the beach at night alone,
OR, from that Sea of Time,
OUT of the rolling ocean, the crowd, came a drop gently to me,
SINGING my days,
PENSIVE, on her dead gazing, I heard the Mother of All,
O TO make the most jubilant poem!
YOU just maturing youth! You male or female!
A BATTER’D, wreck’d old man,
PRIMEVAL my love for the woman I love,
PROUD music of the storm!
O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman!
I SAY whatever tastes sweet to the most perfect person, that is finally right.
TO-DAY a rude brief recitative,
WEAPON, shapely, naked, wan!
AFTER all, not to create only, or found only,
AFOOT and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
A CALIFORNIA song!
COME, said the Muse,
OUT of the murk of heaviest clouds,
SPONTANEOUS me, Nature,
STARTING from fish-shape Paumanok, where I was born,
THAT music always round me, unceasing, unbeginning—yet long untaught I did not hear;
THE indications, and tally of time;
LO! the unbounded sea!
I WANDER all night in my vision,
THERE was a child went forth every day;
THESE, I, singing in spring, collect for lovers,
THIS moment yearning and thoughtful, sitting alone,
THEE for my recitative!
TO think of time—of all that retrospection!
UNFOLDED out of the folds of the woman, man comes unfolded, and is always to
NATIONS ten thousand years before These States, and many times ten thousand years before
I CELEBRATE myself;
WARBLE me now, for joy of Lilac-time,
WEAVE in! weave in, my hardy life!
WHAT General has a good army in himself, has a good army;
WHEN I heard at the close of the day how my name had been receiv’d with plaudits in the
WHISPERS of heavenly death, murmur’d I hear;