224. Myself and Mine



MYSELF and mine gymnastic ever,       
To stand the cold or heat—to take good aim with a gun—to sail a boat—to manage horses—to beget superb children,       
To speak readily and clearly—to feel at home among common people,       
And to hold our own in terrible positions, on land and sea.       
     
Not for an embroiderer;            5   
(There will always be plenty of embroiderers—I welcome them also;)       
But for the fibre of things, and for inherent men and women.       
     
Not to chisel ornaments,       
But to chisel with free stroke the heads and limbs of plenteous Supreme Gods, that The States may realize them, walking and talking.       
     
Let me have my own way;     10   
Let others promulge the laws—I will make no account of the laws;       
Let others praise eminent men and hold up peace—I hold up agitation and conflict;       
I praise no eminent man—I rebuke to his face the one that was thought most worthy.       
     
(Who are you? you mean devil! And what are you secretly guilty of, all your life?       
Will you turn aside all your life? Will you grub and chatter all your life?)     15   
     
(And who are you—blabbing by rote, years, pages, languages, reminiscences,       
Unwitting to-day that you do not know how to speak a single word?)       
     
Let others finish specimens—I never finish specimens;       
I shower them by exhaustless laws, as Nature does, fresh and modern continually.       
     
I give nothing as duties;     20   
What others give as duties, I give as living impulses;       
(Shall I give the heart’s action as a duty?)       
     
Let others dispose of questions—I dispose of nothing—I arouse unanswerable questions;       
Who are they I see and touch, and what about them?       
What about these likes of myself, that draw me so close by tender directions and indirections?     25   
     
I call to the world to distrust the accounts of my friends, but listen to my enemies—as I myself do;       
I charge you, too, forever, reject those who would expound me—for I cannot expound myself;       
I charge that there be no theory or school founded out of me;       
I charge you to leave all free, as I have left all free.       
     
After me, vista!     30   
O, I see life is not short, but immeasurably long;       
I henceforth tread the world, chaste, temperate, an early riser, a steady grower,       
Every hour the semen of centuries—and still of centuries.       
     
I will follow up these continual lessons of the air, water, earth;       
I perceive I have no time to lose.

225. To Old Age



I SEE in you the estuary that enlarges and spreads itself grandly as it pours in the great Sea.   

226. Miracles



WHY! who makes much of a miracle?       
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,       
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,       
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,       
Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the edge of the water,            5   
Or stand under trees in the woods,       
Or talk by day with any one I love—or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,       
Or sit at table at dinner with my mother,       
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,       
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive, of a summer forenoon,     10   
Or animals feeding in the fields,       
Or birds—or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,       
Or the wonderfulness of the sun-down—or of stars shining so quiet and bright,       
Or the exquisite, delicate, thin curve of the new moon in spring;       
Or whether I go among those I like best, and that like me best—mechanics, boatmen, farmers,     15   
Or among the savans—or to the soiree—or to the opera,       
Or stand a long while looking at the movements of machinery,       
Or behold children at their sports,       
Or the admirable sight of the perfect old man, or the perfect old woman,       
Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial,     20   
Or my own eyes and figure in the glass;       
These, with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,       
The whole referring—yet each distinct, and in its place.       
     
To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,       
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,     25   
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,       
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same;       
Every spear of grass—the frames, limbs, organs, of men and women, and all that concerns them,       
All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.       
     
To me the sea is a continual miracle;     30   
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the ships, with men in them,       
What stranger miracles are there?

227. Sparkles from The Wheel



1

WHERE the city’s ceaseless crowd moves on, the live-long day,       
Withdrawn, I join a group of children watching—I pause aside with them.       
     
By the curb, toward the edge of the flagging,       
A knife-grinder works at his wheel, sharpening a great knife;       
Bending over, he carefully holds it to the stone—by foot and knee,            5   
With measur’d tread, he turns rapidly—As he presses with light but firm hand,       
Forth issue, then, in copious golden jets,       
Sparkles from the wheel.       
     
2

The scene, and all its belongings—how they seize and affect me!       
The sad, sharp-chinn’d old man, with worn clothes, and broad shoulder-band of leather;     10   
Myself, effusing and fluid—a phantom curiously floating—now here absorb’d and arrested;       
     
The group, (an unminded point, set in a vast surrounding;)       
The attentive, quiet children—the loud, proud, restive base of the streets;       
The low, hoarse purr of the whirling stone—the light-press’d blade,       
Diffusing, dropping, sideways-darting, in tiny showers of gold,     15   
Sparkles from the wheel.

228. Excelsior



WHO has gone farthest? For lo! have not I gone farther?       
And who has been just? For I would be the most just person of the earth;       
And who most cautious? For I would be more cautious;       
And who has been happiest? O I think it is I! I think no one was ever happier than I;       
And who has lavish’d all? For I lavish constantly the best I have;            5   
And who has been firmest? For I would be firmer;       
And who proudest? For I think I have reason to be the proudest son alive—for I am the son of the brawny and tall-topt city;       
And who has been bold and true? For I would be the boldest and truest being of the universe;       
And who benevolent? For I would show more benevolence than all the rest;       
And who has projected beautiful words through the longest time? Have I not outvied him? have I not said the words that shall stretch through longer time?     10   
And who has receiv’d the love of the most friends? For I know what it is to receive the passionate love of many friends;       
And who possesses a perfect and enamour’d body? For I do not believe any one possesses a more perfect or enamour’d body than mine;       
And who thinks the amplest thoughts? For I will surround those thoughts;       
And who has made hymns fit for the earth? For I am mad with devouring extasy to make joyous hymns for the whole earth!

229. Mediums



THEY shall arise in the States,       
They shall report Nature, laws, physiology, and happiness;       
They shall illustrate Democracy and the kosmos;       
They shall be alimentive, amative, perceptive;       
They shall be complete women and men—their pose brawny and supple, their drink water, their blood clean and clear;            5   
They shall enjoy materialism and the sight of products—they shall enjoy the sight of the beef, lumber, bread-stuffs, of Chicago, the great city;       
They shall train themselves to go in public to become orators and oratresses;       
Strong and sweet shall their tongues be—poems and materials of poems shall come from their lives—they shall be makers and finders;       
Of them, and of their works, shall emerge divine conveyers, to convey gospels;       
Characters, events, retrospections, shall be convey’d in gospels     10   
—Trees, animals, waters, shall be convey’d,       
Death, the future, the invisible faith, shall all be convey’d.

230. Kosmos



WHO includes diversity, and is Nature,       
Who is the amplitude of the earth, and the coarseness and sexuality of the earth, and the great charity of the earth, and the equilibrium also,       
Who has not look’d forth from the windows, the eyes, for nothing, or whose brain held audience with messengers for nothing;       
Who contains believers and disbelievers—Who is the most majestic lover;       
Who holds duly his or her triune proportion of realism, spiritualism, and of the aesthetic, or intellectual,            5   
Who, having consider’d the Body, finds all its organs and parts good;       
Who, out of the theory of the earth, and of his or her body, understands by subtle analogies all other theories,       
The theory of a city, a poem, and of the large politics of These States;       
Who believes not only in our globe, with its sun and moon, but in other globes, with their suns and moons;       
Who, constructing the house of himself or herself, not for a day, but for all time, sees races, eras, dates, generations,     10   
The past, the future, dwelling there, like space, inseparable together.

231. To a Pupil



IS reform needed? Is it through you?       
The greater the reform needed, the greater the personality you need to accomplish it.       
     
You! do you not see how it would serve to have eyes, blood, complexion, clean and sweet?       
Do you not see how it would serve to have such a Body and Soul, that when you enter the crowd, an atmosphere of desire and command enters with you, and every one is impress’d with your personality?       
     
O the magnet! the flesh over and over!            5   
Go, dear friend! if need be, give up all else, and commence to-day to inure yourself to pluck, reality, self-esteem, definiteness, elevatedness;       
Rest not, till you rivet and publish yourself of your own personality.

232. What am I, After All?



WHAT am I, after all, but a child, pleas’d with the sound of my own name? repeating it over and over;       
I stand apart to hear—it never tires me.       
     
To you, your name also;       
Did you think there was nothing but two or three pronunciations in the sound of your name?

233. Others may Praise what They Like



OTHERS may praise what they like;       
But I, from the banks of the running Missouri, praise nothing, in art, or aught else,       
Till it has well inhaled the atmosphere of this river—also the western prairie-scent,       
And fully exudes it again.