254. Song of the Universal



1

COME, said the Muse,       
Sing me a song no poet yet has chanted,       
Sing me the Universal.       
     
In this broad Earth of ours,       
Amid the measureless grossness and the slag,            5   
Enclosed and safe within its central heart,       
Nestles the seed Perfection.       
     
By every life a share, or more or less,       
None born but it is born—conceal’d or unconceal’d, the seed is waiting.       
     
2

Lo! keen-eyed, towering Science!     10   
As from tall peaks the Modern overlooking,       
Successive, absolute fiats issuing.       
     
Yet again, lo! the Soul—above all science;       
For it, has History gather’d like a husk around the globe;       
For it, the entire star-myriads roll through the sky.     15   
     
In spiral roads, by long detours,       
(As a much-tacking ship upon the sea,)       
For it, the partial to the permanent flowing,       
For it, the Real to the Ideal tends.       
     
For it, the mystic evolution;     20   
Not the right only justified—what we call evil also justified.       
     
Forth from their masks, no matter what,       
From the huge, festering trunk—from craft and guile and tears,       
Health to emerge, and joy—joy universal.       
     
Out of the bulk, the morbid and the shallow,     25   
Out of the bad majority—the varied, countless frauds of men and States,       
     
Electric, antiseptic yet—cleaving, suffusing all,       
Only the good is universal.       
     
3

Over the mountain growths, disease and sorrow,       
An uncaught bird is ever hovering, hovering,     30   
High in the purer, happier air.       
     
From imperfection’s murkiest cloud,       
Darts always forth one ray of perfect light,       
One flash of Heaven’s glory.       
     
To fashion’s, custom’s discord,     35   
To the mad Babel-din, the deafening orgies,       
Soothing each lull, a strain is heard, just heard,       
From some far shore, the final chorus sounding.       
     
4

O the blest eyes! the happy hearts!       
That see—that know the guiding thread so fine,     40   
Along the mighty labyrinth!       
     
5

And thou, America!       
For the Scheme’s culmination—its Thought, and its Reality,       
For these, (not for thyself,) Thou hast arrived.       
     
Thou too surroundest all;     45   
Embracing, carrying, welcoming all, Thou too, by pathways broad and new,       
To the Ideal tendest.       
     
The measur’d faiths of other lands—the grandeurs of the past,       
Are not for Thee—but grandeurs of Thine own;       
Deific faiths and amplitudes, absorbing, comprehending all,     50   
All eligible to all.       
     
All, all for Immortality!       
Love, like the light, silently wrapping all!       
Nature’s amelioration blessing all!       
The blossoms, fruits of ages—orchards divine and certain;     55   
Forms, objects, growths, humanities, to spiritual Images ripening.       
     
6

Give me, O God, to sing that thought!       
Give me—give him or her I love, this quenchless faith       
In Thy ensemble. Whatever else withheld, withhold not from us,       
Belief in plan of Thee enclosed in Time and Space;     60   
Health, peace, salvation universal.       
     
Is it a dream?       
Nay, but the lack of it the dream,       
And, failing it, life’s lore and wealth a dream,       
And all the world a dream.

255. Song for All Seas, All Ships



1

TO-DAY a rude brief recitative,       
Of ships sailing the Seas, each with its special flag or ship-signal;       
Of unnamed heroes in the ships—Of waves spreading and spreading, far as the eye can reach;       
Of dashing spray, and the winds piping and blowing;       
And out of these a chant, for the sailors of all nations,            5   
Fitful, like a surge.       
     
Of Sea-Captains young or old, and the Mates—and of all intrepid Sailors;       
Of the few, very choice, taciturn, whom fate can never surprise, nor death dismay,       
Pick’d sparingly, without noise, by thee, old Ocean—chosen by thee,       
Thou Sea, that pickest and cullest the race, in Time, and unitest Nations!     10   
Suckled by thee, old husky Nurse—embodying thee!       
Indomitable, untamed as thee.       
     
(Ever the heroes, on water or on land, by ones or twos appearing,       
Ever the stock preserv’d, and never lost, though rare—enough for seed preserv’d.)       
     
2

Flaunt out O Sea, your separate flags of nations!     15   
Flaunt out, visible as ever, the various ship-signals!       
But do you reserve especially for yourself, and for the soul of man, one flag above all the rest,       
A spiritual woven Signal, for all nations, emblem of man elate above death,       
Token of all brave captains, and all intrepid sailors and mates,       
And all that went down doing their duty;     20   
Reminiscent of them—twined from all intrepid captains, young or old;       
A pennant universal, subtly waving, all time, o’er all brave sailors,       
All seas, all ships.

256. Eidólons



  I MET a Seer,       
Passing the hues and objects of the world,       
The fields of art and learning, pleasure, sense,  To glean Eidólons.       
  Put in thy chants, said he,       
No more the puzzling hour, nor day—nor segments, parts, put in,            5   
Put first before the rest, as light for all, and entrance-song of all,  That of Eidólons.       
  Ever the dim beginning;       
Ever the growth, the rounding of the circle;       
Ever the summit, and the merge at last, (to surely start again,)  Eidólons! Eidólons!       
  Ever the mutable!     10   
Ever materials, changing, crumbling, re-cohering;       
Ever the ateliers, the factories divine,  Issuing Eidólons!       
  Lo! I or you!       
Or woman, man, or State, known or unknown,       
We seeming solid wealth, strength, beauty build,  But really build Eidólons.     15   
  The ostent evanescent;       
The substance of an artist’s mood, or savan’s studies long,       
Or warrior’s, martyr’s, hero’s toils,  To fashion his Eidólon.       
  Of every human life,       
(The units gather’d, posted—not a thought, emotion, deed, left out;)     20   
The whole, or large or small, summ’d, added up,  In its Eidólon.       
  The old, old urge;       
Based on the ancient pinnacles, lo! newer, higher pinnacles;       
From Science and the Modern still impell’d,  The old, old urge, Eidólons.       
  The present, now and here,     25   
America’s busy, teeming, intricate whirl,       
Of aggregate and segregate, for only thence releasing,  To-day’s Eidólons.       
  These, with the past,       
Of vanish’d lands—of all the reigns of kings across the sea,       
Old conquerors, old campaigns, old sailors’ voyages,  Joining Eidólons.     30   
  Densities, growth, façades,       
Strata of mountains, soils, rocks, giant trees,       
Far-born, far-dying, living long, to leave,  Eidólons everlasting.       
  Exaltè, rapt, extatic,       
The visible but their womb of birth,     35   
Of orbic tendencies to shape, and shape, and shape,  The mighty Earth-Eidólon.       
  All space, all time,       
(The stars, the terrible perturbations of the suns,       
Swelling, collapsing, ending—serving their longer, shorter use,)  Fill’d with Eidólons only.       
  The noiseless myriads!     40   
The infinite oceans where the rivers empty!       
The separate, countless free identities, like eyesight;  The true realities, Eidólons.       
  Not this the World,       
Nor these the Universes—they the Universes,       
Purport and end—ever the permanent life of life,  Eidólons, Eidólons.     45   
  Beyond thy lectures, learn’d professor,       
Beyond thy telescope or spectroscope, observer keen—beyond all mathematics,       
Beyond the doctor’s surgery, anatomy—beyond the chemist with his chemistry,  The entities of entities, Eidólons.       
  Unfix’d, yet fix’d;       
Ever shall be—ever have been, and are,     50   
Sweeping the present to the infinite future,  Eidólons, Eidólons, Eidólons.       
  The prophet and the bard,       
Shall yet maintain themselves—in higher stages yet,       
Shall mediate to the Modern, to Democracy—interpret yet to them,  God, and Eidólons.       
  And thee, My Soul!     55   
Joys, ceaseless exercises, exaltations!       
Thy yearning amply fed at last, prepared to meet,  Thy mates, Eidólons.       
  Thy Body permanent,       
The Body lurking there within thy Body,       
The only purport of the Form thou art—the real I myself,  An image, an Eidólon.     60   
  Thy very songs, not in thy songs;       
No special strains to sing—none for itself;       
But from the whole resulting, rising at last and floating,  A round, full-orb’d Eidólon.

257. Prayer of Columbus



A BATTER’D, wreck’d old man,       
Thrown on this savage shore, far, far from home,       
Pent by the sea, and dark rebellious brows, twelve dreary months,       
Sore, stiff with many toils, sicken’d, and nigh to death,       
I take my way along the island’s edge,            5   
Venting a heavy heart.       
     
I am too full of woe!       
Haply, I may not live another day;       
I can not rest, O God—I can not eat or drink or sleep,       
Till I put forth myself, my prayer, once more to Thee,     10   
Breathe, bathe myself once more in Thee—commune with Thee,       
Report myself once more to Thee.       
     
Thou knowest my years entire, my life,       
(My long and crowded life of active work—not adoration merely;)       
Thou knowest the prayers and vigils of my youth;     15   
Thou knowest my manhood’s solemn and visionary meditations;       
Thou knowest how, before I commenced, I devoted all to come to Thee;       
Thou knowest I have in age ratified all those vows, and strictly kept them;       
Thou knowest I have not once lost nor faith nor ecstasy in Thee;       
(In shackles, prison’d, in disgrace, repining not,     20   
Accepting all from Thee—as duly come from Thee.)       
     
All my emprises have been fill’d with Thee,       
My speculations, plans, begun and carried on in thoughts of Thee,       
Sailing the deep, or journeying the land for Thee;       
Intentions, purports, aspirations mine—leaving results to Thee.     25   
     
O I am sure they really come from Thee!       
The urge, the ardor, the unconquerable will,       
The potent, felt, interior command, stronger than words,       
A message from the Heavens, whispering to me even in sleep,       
These sped me on.     30   
     
By me, and these, the work so far accomplish’d (for what has been, has been;)       
By me Earth’s elder, cloy’d and stifled lands, uncloy’d, unloos’d;       
By me the hemispheres rounded and tied—the unknown to the known.       
     
The end I know not—it is all in Thee;       
Or small, or great, I know not—haply, what broad fields, what lands;     35   
Haply, the brutish, measureless human undergrowth I know,       
Transplanted there, may rise to stature, knowledge worthy Thee;       
Haply the swords I know may there indeed be turn’d to reaping-tools;       
Haply the lifeless cross I know—Europe’s dead cross—may bud and blossom there.       
     
One effort more—my altar this bleak sand:     40   
That Thou, O God, my life hast lighted,       
With ray of light, steady, ineffable, vouchsafed of Thee,       
(Light rare, untellable—lighting the very light!       
Beyond all signs, descriptions, languages!)       
For that, O God—be it my latest word—here on my knees,     45   
Old, poor, and paralyzed—I thank Thee.       
     
My terminus near,       
The clouds already closing in upon me,       
The voyage balk’d—the course disputed, lost,       
I yield my ships to Thee.     50   
     
Steersman unseen! henceforth the helms are Thine;       
Take Thou command—(what to my petty skill Thy navigation?)       
My hands, my limbs grow nerveless;       
My brain feels rack’d, bewilder’d; Let the old timbers part—I will not part!       
I will cling fast to Thee, O God, though the waves buffet me;     55   
Thee, Thee, at least, I know.       
     
Is it the prophet’s thought I speak, or am I raving?       
What do I know of life? what of myself?       
I know not even my own work, past or present;       
Dim, ever-shifting guesses of it spread before me,     60   
Of newer, better worlds, their mighty parturition,       
Mocking, perplexing me.       
     
And these things I see suddenly—what mean they?       
As if some miracle, some hand divine unseal’d my eyes,       
Shadowy, vast shapes, smile through the air and sky,     65   
And on the distant waves sail countless ships,       
And anthems in new tongues I hear saluting me.

258. Spain 1873–’74



OUT of the murk of heaviest clouds,       
Out of the feudal wrecks, and heap’d-up skeletons of kings,       
Out of that old entire European debris—the shatter’d mummeries,       
Ruin’d cathedrals, crumble of palaces, tombs of priests,       
Lo! Freedom’s features, fresh, undimm’d, look forth—the same immortal face looks forth;            5   
(A glimpse as of thy mother’s face, Columbia,       
A flash significant as of a sword,       
Beaming towards thee.)       
     
Nor think we forget thee, Maternal;       
Lag’d’st thou so long? Shall the clouds close again upon thee?     10   
Ah, but thou hast Thyself now appear’d to us—we know thee;       
Thou hast given us a sure proof, the glimpse of Thyself;       
Thou waitest there, as everywhere, thy time.

259. Out from Behind this Mask



1

OUT from behind this bending, rough-cut Mask,       
(All straighter, liker Masks rejected—this preferr’d,)       
This common curtain of the face, contain’d in me for me, in you for you, in each for each,       
(Tragedies, sorrows, laughter, tears—O heaven!       
The passionate, teeming plays this curtain hid!)            5   
This glaze of God’s serenest, purest sky,       
This film of Satan’s seething pit,       
This heart’s geography’s map—this limitless small continent—this soundless sea;       
Out from the convolutions of this globe,       
This subtler astronomic orb than sun or moon—than Jupiter, Venus, Mars;     10   
This condensation of the Universe—(nay, here the only Universe,       
Here the IDEA—all in this mystic handful wrapt;)       
These burin’d eyes, flashing to you, to pass to future time,       
To launch and spin through space revolving, sideling—from these to emanate,       
To You, whoe’er you are—a Look.     15   
     
2

A Traveler of thoughts and years—of peace and war,       
Of youth long sped, and middle age declining,       
(As the first volume of a tale perused and laid away, and this the second,       
Songs, ventures, speculations, presently to close,)       
Lingering a moment, here and now, to You I opposite turn,     20   
As on the road, or at some crevice door, by chance, or open’d window,       
Pausing, inclining, baring my head, You specially I greet,       
To draw and clench your Soul, for once, inseparably with mine,       
Then travel, travel on.

260. To a Locomotive in Winter



THEE for my recitative!       
Thee in the driving storm, even as now—the snow—the winter-day declining;       
Thee in thy panoply, thy measured dual throbbing, and thy beat convulsive;       
Thy black cylindric body, golden brass, and silvery steel;       
Thy ponderous side-bars, parallel and connecting rods, gyrating, shuttling at thy sides;            5   
Thy metrical, now swelling pant and roar—now tapering in the distance;       
Thy great protruding head-light, fix’d in front;       
Thy long, pale, floating vapor-pennants, tinged with delicate purple;       
The dense and murky clouds out-belching from thy smoke-stack;       
Thy knitted frame—thy springs and valves—the tremulous twinkle of thy wheels;     10   
Thy train of cars behind, obedient, merrily-following,       
Through gale or calm, now swift, now slack, yet steadily careering:       
Type of the modern! emblem of motion and power! pulse of the continent!       
For once, come serve the Muse, and merge in verse, even as here I see thee,       
With storm, and buffeting gusts of wind, and falling snow;     15   
By day, thy warning, ringing bell to sound its notes,       
By night, thy silent signal lamps to swing.       
     
Fierce-throated beauty!       
Roll through my chant, with all thy lawless music! thy swinging lamps at night;       
Thy piercing, madly-whistled laughter! thy echoes, rumbling like an earthquake, rousing all!     20   
Law of thyself complete, thine own track firmly holding;       
(No sweetness debonair of tearful harp or glib piano thine,)       
Thy trills of shrieks by rocks and hills return’d,       
Launch’d o’er the prairies wide—across the lakes,       
To the free skies, unpent, and glad, and strong.

261. The Ox Tamer



IN a faraway northern county, in the placid, pastoral region,       
Lives my farmer friend, the theme of my recitative, a famous Tamer of Oxen:       
There they bring him the three-year-olds and the four-year-olds, to break them;       
He will take the wildest steer in the world, and break him and tame him;       
He will go, fearless, without any whip, where the young bullock chafes up and down the yard;            5   
The bullock’s head tosses restless high in the air, with raging eyes;       
Yet, see you! how soon his rage subsides—how soon this Tamer tames him:       
See you! on the farms hereabout, a hundred oxen, young and old—and he is the man who has tamed them;       
They all know him—all are affectionate to him;       
See you! some are such beautiful animals—so lofty looking!     10   
Some are buff color’d—some mottled—one has a white line running along his back—some are brindled,       
Some have wide flaring horns (a good sign)—See you! the bright hides;       
See, the two with stars on their foreheads—See, the round bodies and broad backs;       
See, how straight and square they stand on their legs—See, what fine, sagacious eyes;       
See, how they watch their Tamer—they wish him near them—how they turn to look after him!     15   
What yearning expression! how uneasy they are when he moves away from them:       
—Now I marvel what it can be he appears to them, (books, politics, poems depart—all else departs;)       
I confess I envy only his fascination—my silent, illiterate friend,       
Whom a hundred oxen love, there in his life on farms,       
In the northern county far, in the placid, pastoral region.

262. Wandering at Morn



WANDERING at morn,       
Emerging from the night, from gloomy thoughts—thee in my thoughts,       
Yearning for thee, harmonious Union! thee, Singing Bird divine!       
Thee, seated coil’d in evil times, my Country, with craft and black dismay—with every meanness, treason thrust upon thee;       
—Wandering—this common marvel I beheld—the parent thrush I watch’d, feeding its young,            5   
(The singing thrush, whose tones of joy and faith ecstatic,       
Fail not to certify and cheer my soul.)       
     
There ponder’d, felt I,       
If worms, snakes, loathsome grubs, may to sweet spiritual songs be turn’d,       
If vermin so transposed, so used, so bless’d may be,     10   
Then may I trust in you, your fortunes, days, my country;       
—Who knows that these may be the lessons fit for you?       
From these your future Song may rise, with joyous trills,       
Destin’d to fill the world.

263. An Old Man’s Thought of School



AN old man’s thought of School;       
An old man, gathering youthful memories and blooms, that youth itself cannot.       
     
Now only do I know you!       
O fair auroral skies! O morning dew upon the grass!       
     
And these I see—these sparkling eyes,            5   
These stores of mystic meaning—these young lives,       
Building, equipping, like a fleet of ships—immortal ships!       
Soon to sail out over the measureless seas,       
On the Soul’s voyage.       
     
Only a lot of boys and girls?     10   
Only the tiresome spelling, writing, ciphering classes?       
Only a Public School?       
     
Ah more—infinitely more;       
(As George Fox rais’d his warning cry, “Is it this pile of brick and mortar—these dead floors, windows, rails—you call the church?       
Why this is not the church at all—the Church is living, ever living Souls.”)     15   
     
And you, America,       
Cast you the real reckoning for your present?       
The lights and shadows of your future—good or evil?       
To girlhood, boyhood look—the Teacher and the School.