196. Poem of Joys



1

O TO make the most jubilant poem!       
Even to set off these, and merge with these, the carols of Death.       
O full of music! full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!       
Full of common employments! full of grain and trees.       
     
O for the voices of animals! O for the swiftness and balance of fishes!            5   
O for the dropping of rain-drops in a poem!       
O for the sunshine, and motion of waves in a poem.       
     
O the joy of my spirit! it is uncaged! it darts like lightning!       
It is not enough to have this globe, or a certain time—I will have thousands of globes, and all time.       
     
2

O the engineer’s joys!     10   
To go with a locomotive!       
To hear the hiss of steam—the merry shriek—the steam-whistle—the laughing locomotive!       
To push with resistless way, and speed off in the distance.       
     
O the gleesome saunter over fields and hill-sides!       
The leaves and flowers of the commonest weeds—the moist fresh stillness of the woods,     15   
The exquisite smell of the earth at day-break, and all through the forenoon.       
     
O the horseman’s and horsewoman’s joys!       
The saddle—the gallop—the pressure upon the seat—the cool gurgling by the ears and hair.       
     
3

O the fireman’s joys!       
I hear the alarm at dead of night,     20   
I hear bells—shouts!—I pass the crowd—I run!       
The sight of the flames maddens me with pleasure.       
     
O the joy of the strong-brawn’d fighter, towering in the arena, in perfect condition, conscious of power, thirsting to meet his opponent.       
     
O the joy of that vast elemental sympathy which only the human Soul is capable of generating and emitting in steady and limitless floods.       
     
4

O the mother’s joys!     25   
The watching—the endurance—the precious love—the anguish—the patiently yielded life.       
     
O the joy of increase, growth, recuperation;       
The joy of soothing and pacifying—the joy of concord and harmony.       
     
O to go back to the place where I was born!       
To hear the birds sing once more!     30   
To ramble about the house and barn, and over the fields, once more,       
And through the orchard and along the old lanes once more.       
     
5

O male and female!       
O the presence of women! (I swear there is nothing more exquisite to me than the mere presence of women;)       
O for the girl, my mate! O for the happiness with my mate!     35   
O the young man as I pass! O I am sick after the friendship of him who, I fear, is indifferent to me.       
     
O the streets of cities!       
The flitting faces—the expressions, eyes, feet, costumes! O I cannot tell how welcome they are to me.       
     
6

O to have been brought up on bays, lagoons, creeks, or along the coast!       
O to continue and be employ’d there all my life!     40   
O the briny and damp smell—the shore—the salt weeds exposed at low water,       
The work of fishermen—the work of the eel-fisher and clam-fisher.       
     
O it is I!       
I come with my clam-rake and spade! I come with my eel-spear;       
Is the tide out? I join the group of clam-diggers on the flats,     45   
I laugh and work with them—I joke at my work, like a mettlesome young man.       
     
In winter I take my eel-basket and eel-spear and travel out on foot on the ice—I have a small axe to cut holes in the ice;       
Behold me, well-clothed, going gaily, or returning in the afternoon—my brood of tough boys accompaning me,       
My brood of grown and part-grown boys, who love to be with no one else so well as they love to be with me,       
By day to work with me, and by night to sleep with me.     50   
     
Or, another time, in warm weather, out in a boat, to lift the lobster-pots, where they are sunk with heavy stones, (I know the buoys;)       
O the sweetness of the Fifth-month morning upon the water, as I row, just before sunrise, toward the buoys;       
I pull the wicker pots up slantingly—the dark-green lobsters are desperate with their claws, as I take them out—I insert wooden pegs in the joints of their pincers,       
I go to all the places, one after another, and then row back to the shore,       
There, in a huge kettle of boiling water, the lobsters shall be boil’d till their color becomes scarlet.     55   
     
Or, another time, mackerel-taking,       
Voracious, mad for the hook, near the surface, they seem to fill the water for miles:       
Or, another time, fishing for rock-fish, in Chesapeake Bay—I one of the brown-faced crew:       
Or, another time, trailing for blue-fish off Paumanok, I stand with braced body,       
My left foot is on the gunwale—my right arm throws the coils of slender rope,     60   
In sight around me the quick veering and darting of fifty skiffs, my companions.       
     
7

O boating on the rivers!       
The voyage down the Niagara, (the St. Lawrence,)—the superb scenery—the steamers,       
The ships sailing—the Thousand Islands—the occasional timber-raft, and the raftsmen with long-reaching sweep-oars,       
The little huts on the rafts, and the stream of smoke when they cook their supper at evening.     65   
     
O something pernicious and dread!       
Something far away from a puny and pious life!       
Something unproved! Something in a trance!       
Something escaped from the anchorage, and driving free.       
     
O to work in mines, or forging iron!     70   
Foundry casting—the foundry itself—the rude high roof—the ample and shadow’d space,       
The furnace—the hot liquid pour’d out and running.       
     
8

O to resume the joys of the soldier:       
To feel the presence of a brave general! to feel his sympathy!       
To behold his calmness! to be warm’d in the rays of his smile!     75   
To go to battle! to hear the bugles play, and the drums beat!       
To hear the crash of artillery! to see the glittering of the bayonets and musket-barrels in the sun!       
To see men fall and die, and not complain!       
To taste the savage taste of blood! to be so devilish!       
To gloat so over the wounds and deaths of the enemy.     80   
     
9

O the whaleman’s joys! O I cruise my old cruise again!       
I feel the ship’s motion under me—I feel the Atlantic breezes fanning me,       
I hear the cry again sent down from the mast-head—There—she blows!       
—Again I spring up the rigging, to look with the rest—We see—we descend, wild with excitement,       
I leap in the lower’d boat—We row toward our prey, where he lies,     85   
We approach, stealthy and silent—I see the mountainous mass, lethargic, basking,       
I see the harpooneer standing up—I see the weapon dart from his vigorous arm:       
O swift, again, now, far out in the ocean, the wounded whale, settling, running to windward, tows me;       
—Again I see him rise to breathe—We row close again,       
I see a lance driven through his side, press’d deep, turn’d in the wound,     90   
Again we back off—I see him settle again—the life is leaving him fast,       
As he rises, he spouts blood—I see him swim in circles narrower and narrower, swiftly cutting the water—I see him die;       
He gives one convulsive leap in the centre of the circle, and then falls flat and still in the bloody foam.       
     
10

O the old manhood of me, my joy!       
My children and grand-children—my white hair and beard,     95   
My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long stretch of my life.       
     
O the ripen’d joy of womanhood!       
O perfect happiness at last!       
I am more than eighty years of age—my hair, too, is pure white—I am the most venerable mother;       
How clear is my mind! how all people draw nigh to me!    100   
What attractions are these, beyond any before? what bloom, more than the bloom of youth?       
What beauty is this that descends upon me, and rises out of me?       
     
O the orator’s joys!       
To inflate the chest—to roll the thunder of the voice out from the ribs and throat,       
To make the people rage, weep, hate, desire, with yourself,    105   
To lead America—to quell America with a great tongue.       
     
O the joy of my soul leaning pois’d on itself—receiving identity through materials, and loving them—observing characters, and absorbing them;       
O my soul, vibrated back to me, from them—from facts, sight, hearing, touch, my phrenology, reason, articulation, comparison, memory, and the like;       
The real life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh;       
My body, done with materials—my sight, done with my material eyes;    110   
Proved to me this day, beyond cavil, that it is not my material eyes which finally see,       
Nor my material body which finally loves, walks, laughs, shouts, embraces, procreates.       
 

11

O the farmer’s joys!       
Ohioan’s, Illinoisian’s, Wisconsinese’, Kanadian’s, Iowan’s, Kansian’s, Missourian’s, Oregonese’ joys;       
To rise at peep of day, and pass forth nimbly to work,    115   
To plow land in the fall for winter-sown crops,       
To plough land in the spring for maize,       
To train orchards—to graft the trees—to gather apples in the fall.       
     
O the pleasure with trees!       
The orchard—the forest—the oak, cedar, pine, pekan-tree,    120   
The honey-locust, black-walnut, cottonwood, and magnolia.       
     
12

O Death! the voyage of Death!       
The beautiful touch of Death, soothing and benumbing a few moments, for reasons;       
Myself, discharging my excrementitious body, to be burn’d, or render’d to powder, or buried,       
My real body doubtless left to me for other spheres,    125   
My voided body, nothing more to me, returning to the purifications, further offices, eternal uses of the earth.       
     
13

O to bathe in the swimming-bath, or in a good place along shore!       
To splash the water! to walk ankle-deep—to race naked along the shore.       
     
O to realize space!       
The plenteousness of all—that there are no bounds;    130   
To emerge, and be of the sky—of the sun and moon, and the flying clouds, as one with them.       
     
O the joy of a manly self-hood!       
Personality—to be servile to none—to defer to none—not to any tyrant, known or unknown,       
To walk with erect carriage, a step springy and elastic,       
To look with calm gaze, or with a flashing eye,    135   
To speak with a full and sonorous voice, out of a broad chest,       
To confront with your personality all the other personalities of the earth.       
     
14

Know’st thou the excellent joys of youth?       
Joys of the dear companions, and of the merry word, and laughing face?       
Joys of the glad, light-beaming day—joy of the wide-breath’d games?    140   
Joy of sweet music—joy of the lighted ball-room, and the dancers?       
Joy of the friendly, plenteous dinner—the strong carouse, and drinking?       
     
15

Yet, O my soul supreme!       
Know’st thou the joys of pensive thought?       
Joys of the free and lonesome heart—the tender, gloomy heart?    145   
Joy of the solitary walk—the spirit bowed yet proud—the suffering and the struggle?       
The agonistic throes, the extasies—joys of the solemn musings, day or night?       
Joys of the thought of Death—the great spheres Time and Space?       
Prophetic joys of better, loftier love’s ideals—the Divine Wife—the sweet, eternal, perfect Comrade?       
Joys all thine own, undying one—joys worthy thee, O Soul.    150   
     
16

O, while I live, to be the ruler of life—not a slave,       
To meet life as a powerful conqueror,       
No fumes—no ennui—no more complaints, or scornful criticisms.       
     
O me repellent and ugly!       
To these proud laws of the air, the water, and the ground, proving my interior Soul impregnable,    155   
And nothing exterior shall ever take command of me.       
     
O to attract by more than attraction!       
How it is I know not—yet behold! the something which obeys none of the rest,       
It is offensive, never defensive—yet how magnetic it draws.       
     
17

O joy of suffering!    160   
To struggle against great odds! to meet enemies undaunted!       
To be entirely alone with them! to find how much one can stand!       
To look strife, torture, prison, popular odium, death, face to face!       
To mount the scaffold! to advance to the muzzles of guns with perfect nonchalance!       
To be indeed a God!    165   
     
18

O, to sail to sea in a ship!       
To leave this steady, unendurable land!       
To leave the tiresome sameness of the streets, the sidewalks and the houses;       
To leave you, O you solid motionless land, and entering a ship,       
To sail, and sail, and sail!    170   
     
19

O to have my life henceforth a poem of new joys!       
To dance, clap hands, exult, shout, skip, leap, roll on, float on,       
To be a sailor of the world, bound for all ports,       
A ship itself, (see indeed these sails I spread to the sun and air,)       
A swift and swelling ship, full of rich words—full of joys.    175

197. To Think of Time



1

TO think of time—of all that retrospection!       
To think of to-day, and the ages continued henceforward!       
     
Have you guess’d you yourself would not continue?       
Have you dreaded these earth-beetles?       
Have you fear’d the future would be nothing to you?            5   
     
Is to-day nothing? Is the beginningless past nothing?       
If the future is nothing, they are just as surely nothing.       
     
To think that the sun rose in the east! that men and women were flexible, real, alive! that everything was alive!       
To think that you and I did not see, feel, think, nor bear our part!       
To think that we are now here, and bear our part!     10   
     
2

Not a day passes—not a minute or second, without an accouchement!       
Not a day passes—not a minute or second, without a corpse!       
     
The dull nights go over, and the dull days also,       
The soreness of lying so much in bed goes over,       
The physician, after long putting off, gives the silent and terrible look for an answer,     15   
The children come hurried and weeping, and the brothers and sisters are sent for,       
Medicines stand unused on the shelf—(the camphor-smell has long pervaded the rooms,)       
The faithful hand of the living does not desert the hand of the dying,       
The twitching lips press lightly on the forehead of the dying,       
The breath ceases, and the pulse of the heart ceases,     20   
The corpse stretches on the bed, and the living look upon it,       
It is palpable as the living are palpable.       
     
The living look upon the corpse with their eye-sight,       
But without eye-sight lingers a different living, and looks curiously on the corpse.       
     
3

To think the thought of Death, merged in the thought of materials!     25   
To think that the rivers will flow, and the snow fall, and fruits ripen, and act upon others as upon us now—yet not act upon us!       
To think of all these wonders of city and country, and others taking great interest in them—and we taking no interest in them!       
     
To think how eager we are in building our houses!       
To think others shall be just as eager, and we quite indifferent!       
     
(I see one building the house that serves him a few years, or seventy or eighty years at most,     30   
I see one building the house that serves him longer than that.)       
     
Slow-moving and black lines creep over the whole earth—they never cease—they are the burial lines,       
He that was President was buried, and he that is now President shall surely be buried.       
     
4

A reminiscence of the vulgar fate,       
A frequent sample of the life and death of workmen,     35   
Each after his kind:       
Cold dash of waves at the ferry-wharf—posh and ice in the river, half-frozen mud in the streets, a gray, discouraged sky overhead, the short, last daylight of Twelfth-month,       
A hearse and stages—other vehicles give place—the funeral of an old Broadway stage-driver, the cortege mostly drivers.       
     
Steady the trot to the cemetery, duly rattles the death-bell, the gate is pass’d, the new-dug grave is halted at, the living alight, the hearse uncloses,       
The coffin is pass’d out, lower’d and settled, the whip is laid on the coffin, the earth is swiftly shovel’d in,     40   
The mound above is flatted with the spades—silence,       
A minute—no one moves or speaks—it is done,       
He is decently put away—is there anything more?       
     
He was a good fellow, free-mouth’d, quick-temper’d, not bad-looking, able to take his own part, witty, sensitive to a slight, ready with life or death for a friend, fond of women, gambled, ate hearty, drank hearty, had known what it was to be flush, grew low-spirited toward the last, sicken’d, was help’d by a contribution, died, aged forty-one years—and that was his funeral.       
     
Thumb extended, finger uplifted, apron, cape, gloves, strap, wet-weather clothes, whip carefully chosen, boss, spotter, starter, hostler, somebody loafing on you, you loafing on somebody, headway, man before and man behind, good day’s work, bad day’s work, pet stock, mean stock, first out, last out, turning-in at night;     45   
To think that these are so much and so nigh to other drivers—and he there takes no interest in them!       
     
5

The markets, the government, the working-man’s wages—to think what account they are through our nights and days!       
To think that other working-men will make just as great account of them—yet we make little or no account!       
     
The vulgar and the refined—what you call sin, and what you call goodness—to think how wide a difference!       
To think the difference will still continue to others, yet we lie beyond the difference.     50   
     
To think how much pleasure there is!       
Have you pleasure from looking at the sky? have you pleasure from poems?       
Do you enjoy yourself in the city? or engaged in business? or planning a nomination and election? or with your wife and family?       
Or with your mother and sisters? or in womanly housework? or the beautiful maternal cares?       
—These also flow onward to others—you and I flow onward,     55   
But in due time, you and I shall take less interest in them.       
     
Your farm, profits, crops,—to think how engross’d you are!       
To think there will still be farms, profits, crops—yet for you, of what avail?       
     
6

What will be, will be well—for what is, is well,       
To take interest is well, and not to take interest shall be well.     60   
     
The sky continues beautiful,       
The pleasure of men with women shall never be sated, nor the pleasure of women with men, nor the pleasure from poems,       
The domestic joys, the daily housework or business, the building of houses—these are not phantasms—they have weight, form, location;       
Farms, profits, crops, markets, wages, government, are none of them phantasms,       
The difference between sin and goodness is no delusion,     65   
The earth is not an echo—man and his life, and all the things of his life, are well-consider’d.       
     
You are not thrown to the winds—you gather certainly and safely around yourself;       
Yourself! Yourself! Yourself, forever and ever!       
     
7

It is not to diffuse you that you were born of your mother and father—it is to identify you;       
It is not that you should be undecided, but that you should be decided;     70   
Something long preparing and formless is arrived and form’d in you,       
You are henceforth secure, whatever comes or goes.       
     
The threads that were spun are gather’d, the weft crosses the warp, the pattern is systematic.       
     
The preparations have every one been justified,       
The orchestra have sufficiently tuned their instruments—the baton has given the signal.     75   
     
The guest that was coming—he waited long, for reasons—he is now housed,       
He is one of those who are beautiful and happy—he is one of those that to look upon and be with is enough.       
     
The law of the past cannot be eluded,       
The law of the present and future cannot be eluded,       
The law of the living cannot be eluded—it is eternal,     80   
The law of promotion and transformation cannot be eluded,       
The law of heroes and good-doers cannot be eluded,       
The law of drunkards, informers, mean persons—not one iota thereof can be eluded.       
     
8

Slow moving and black lines go ceaselessly over the earth,       
Northerner goes carried, and Southerner goes carried, and they on the Atlantic side, and they on the Pacific, and they between, and all through the Mississippi country, and all over the earth.     85   
     
The great masters and kosmos are well as they go—the heroes and good-doers are well,       
The known leaders and inventors, and the rich owners and pious and distinguish’d, may be well,       
But there is more account than that—there is strict account of all.       
     
The interminable hordes of the ignorant and wicked are not nothing,       
The barbarians of Africa and Asia are not nothing,     90   
The common people of Europe are not nothing—the American aborigines are not nothing,       
The infected in the immigrant hospital are not nothing—the murderer or mean person is not nothing,       
The perpetual successions of shallow people are not nothing as they go,       
The lowest prostitute is not nothing—the mocker of religion is not nothing as he goes.       
     
9

Of and in all these things,     95   
I have dream’d that we are not to be changed so much, nor the law of us changed,       
I have dream’d that heroes and good-doers shall be under the present and past law,       
And that murderers, drunkards, liars, shall be under the present and past law,       
For I have dream’d that the law they are under now is enough.       
     
If otherwise, all came but to ashes of dung,    100   
If maggots and rats ended us, then Alarum! for we are betray’d!       
Then indeed suspicion of death.       
     
Do you suspect death? If I were to suspect death, I should die now,       
Do you think I could walk pleasantly and well-suited toward annihilation?       
     
10

Pleasantly and well-suited I walk,    105   
Whither I walk I cannot define, but I know it is good,       
The whole universe indicates that it is good,       
The past and the present indicate that it is good.       
     
How beautiful and perfect are the animals!       
How perfect the earth, and the minutest thing upon it!    110   
     
What is called good is perfect, and what is called bad is just as perfect,       
The vegetables and minerals are all perfect, and the imponderable fluids are perfect;       
Slowly and surely they have pass’d on to this, and slowly and surely they yet pass on.       
     
11

I swear I think now that everything without exception has an eternal Soul!       
The trees have, rooted in the ground! the weeds of the sea have! the animals!    115   
     
I swear I think there is nothing but immortality!       
That the exquisite scheme is for it, and the nebulous float is for it, and the cohering is for it;       
And all preparation is for it! and identity is for it! and life and materials are altogether for it!

198. Chanting the Square Deific



1

CHANTING the square deific, out of the One advancing, out of the sides;       
Out of the old and new—out of the square entirely divine,       
Solid, four-sided, (all the sides needed)... from this side JEHOVAH am I,       
Old Brahm I, and I Saturnius am;       
Not Time affects me—I am Time, old, modern as any;            5   
Unpersuadable, relentless, executing righteous judgments;       
As the Earth, the Father, the brown old Kronos, with laws,       
Aged beyond computation—yet ever new—ever with those mighty laws rolling,       
Relentless, I forgive no man—whoever sins, dies—I will have that man’s life;       
Therefore let none expect mercy—Have the seasons, gravitation, the appointed days, mercy?—No more have I;     10   
But as the seasons, and gravitation—and as all the appointed days, that forgive not,       
I dispense from this side judgments inexorable, without the least remorse.       
     
2

Consolator most mild, the promis’d one advancing,       
With gentle hand extended—the mightier God am I,       
Foretold by prophets and poets, in their most rapt prophecies and poems;     15   
From this side, lo! the Lord CHRIST gazes—lo! Hermes I—lo! mine is Hercules’ face;       
All sorrow, labor, suffering, I, tallying it, absorb in myself;       
Many times have I been rejected, taunted, put in prison, and crucified—and many times shall be again;       
All the world have I given up for my dear brothers’ and sisters’ sake—for the soul’s sake;       
Wending my way through the homes of men, rich or poor, with the kiss of affection;     20   
For I am affection—I am the cheer-bringing God, with hope, and all-enclosing Charity;       
(Conqueror yet—for before me all the armies and soldiers of the earth shall yet bow—and all the weapons of war become impotent:)       
With indulgent words, as to children—with fresh and sane words, mine only;       
Young and strong I pass, knowing well I am destin’d myself to an early death:       
But my Charity has no death—my Wisdom dies not, neither early nor late,     25   
And my sweet Love, bequeath’d here and elsewhere, never dies.       
     
3

Aloof, dissatisfied, plotting revolt,       
Comrade of criminals, brother of slaves,       
Crafty, despised, a drudge, ignorant,       
With sudra face and worn brow, black, but in the depths of my heart, proud as any;     30   
Lifted, now and always, against whoever, scorning, assumes to rule me;       
Morose, full of guile, full of reminiscences, brooding, with many wiles,       
(Though it was thought I was baffled and dispell’d, and my wiles done—but that will never be;)       
Defiant, I, SATAN, still live—still utter words—in new lands duly appearing, (and old ones also;)       
Permanent here, from my side, warlike, equal with any, real as any,     35   
Nor time, nor change, shall ever change me or my words.       
     
4

Santa SPIRITA, breather, life,       
Beyond the light, lighter than light,       
Beyond the flames of hell—joyous, leaping easily above hell;       
Beyond Paradise—perfumed solely with mine own perfume;     40   
Including all life on earth—touching, including God—including Saviour and Satan;       
Ethereal, pervading all, (for without me, what were all? what were God?)       
Essence of forms—life of the real identities, permanent, positive, (namely the unseen,)       
Life of the great round world, the sun and stars, and of man—I, the general Soul,       
Here the square finishing, the solid, I the most solid,     45   
Breathe my breath also through these songs.

199. Whispers of Heavenly Death



WHISPERS of heavenly death, murmur’d I hear;       
Labial gossip of night—sibilant chorals;       
Footsteps gently ascending—mystical breezes, wafted soft and low;       
Ripples of unseen rivers—tides of a current, flowing, forever flowing;       
(Or is it the plashing of tears? the measureless waters of human tears?)            5   
     
I see, just see, skyward, great cloud-masses;       
Mournfully, slowly they roll, silently swelling and mixing;       
With, at times, a half-dimm’d, sadden’d, far-off star,       
Appearing and disappearing.       
     
(Some parturition, rather—some solemn, immortal birth:     10   
On the frontiers, to eyes impenetrable,       
Some Soul is passing over.)

200. Darest Thou Now, O Soul



1

DAREST thou now, O Soul,       
Walk out with me toward the Unknown Region,       
Where neither ground is for the feet, nor any path to follow?       
     
2

No map, there, nor guide,       
Nor voice sounding, nor touch of human hand,            5   
Nor face with blooming flesh, nor lips, nor eyes, are in that land.       
     
3

I know it not, O Soul;       
Nor dost thou—all is a blank before us;       
All waits, undream’d of, in that region—that inaccessible land.       
     
4

Till, when the ties loosen,     10   
All but the ties eternal, Time and Space,       
Nor darkness, gravitation, sense, nor any bounds, bound us.       
     
5

Then we burst forth—we float,       
In Time and Space, O Soul—prepared for them;       
Equal, equipt at last—(O joy! O fruit of all!) them to fulfil, O Soul.     15

201. Of Him I Love Day and Night



OF him I love day and night, I dream’d I heard he was dead;       
And I dream’d I went where they had buried him I love—but he was not in that place;       
And I dream’d I wander’d, searching among burial-places, to find him;       
And I found that every place was a burial-place;       
The houses full of life were equally full of death, (this house is now;)            5   
The streets, the shipping, the places of amusement, the Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia, the Mannahatta, were as full of the dead as of the living,       
And fuller, O vastly fuller, of the dead than of the living;       
—And what I dream’d I will henceforth tell to every person and age,       
And I stand henceforth bound to what I dream’d;       
And now I am willing to disregard burial-places, and dispense with them;     10   
And if the memorials of the dead were put up indifferently everywhere, even in the room where I eat or sleep, I should be satisfied;       
And if the corpse of any one I love, or if my own corpse, be duly render’d to powder, and pour’d in the sea, I shall be satisfied;       
Or if it be distributed to the winds, I shall be satisfied.

202. Assurances



I NEED no assurances—I am a man who is preoccupied, of his own Soul;       
I do not doubt that from under the feet, and beside the hands and face I am cognizant of, are now looking faces I am not cognizant of—calm and actual faces;       
I do not doubt but the majesty and beauty of the world are latent in any iota of the world;       
I do not doubt I am limitless, and that the universes are limitless—in vain I try to think how limitless;       
I do not doubt that the orbs, and the systems of orbs, play their swift sports through the air on purpose—and that I shall one day be eligible to do as much as they, and more than they;            5   
I do not doubt that temporary affairs keep on and on, millions of years;       
I do not doubt interiors have their interiors, and exteriors have their exteriors—and that the eye-sight has another eye-sight, and the hearing another hearing, and the voice another voice;       
I do not doubt that the passionately-wept deaths of young men are provided for—and that the deaths of young women, and the deaths of little children, are provided for;       
(Did you think Life was so well provided for—and Death, the purport of all Life, is not well provided for?)       
I do not doubt that wrecks at sea, no matter what the horrors of them—no matter whose wife, child, husband, father, lover, has gone down, are provided for, to the minutest points;     10   
I do not doubt that whatever can possibly happen, any where, at any time, is provided for, in the inherences of things;       
I do not think Life provides for all, and for Time and Space—but I believe Heavenly Death provides for all.

203. Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours



1

YET, yet, ye downcast hours, I know ye also;       
Weights of lead, how ye clog and cling at my ankles!       
Earth to a chamber of mourning turns—I hear the o’erweening, mocking voice,       
Matter is conqueror—matter, triumphant only, continues onward.       
     
2

Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me,            5   
The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarm’d, uncertain,       
The Sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me,       
Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my destination.       
     
3

I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you,       
I approach, hear, behold—the sad mouth, the look out of the eyes, your mute inquiry,     10   
Whither I go from the bed I recline on, come tell me:       
Old age, alarm’d, uncertain—A young woman’s voice, appealing to me for comfort;       
A young man’s voice, Shall I not escape?

204. Quicksand Years



QUICKSAND years that whirl me I know not whither,       
Your schemes, politics, fail—lines give way—substances mock and elude me;       
Only the theme I sing, the great and strong-possess’d Soul, eludes not;       
One’s-self must never give way—that is the final substance—that out of all is sure;       
Out of politics, triumphs, battles, life—what at last finally remains?            5   
When shows break up, what but One’s-Self is sure?