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Leaves of Grass (1881-82)
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A BROADWAY PAGEANT.
1
OVER the Western sea hither from Niphon come, |
Courteous, the swart-cheek'd two-sworded envoys, |
Leaning back in their open barouches, bare-headed, impassive, |
Ride to-day through Manhattan. |
Libertad! I do not know whether others behold what I behold, |
In the procession along with the nobles of Niphon, the errand-
bearers,
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Bringing up the rear, hovering above, around, or in the ranks
marching,
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But I will sing you a song of what I behold Libertad. |
When million-footed Manhattan unpent descends to her pavements, |
When the thunder-cracking guns arouse me with the proud roar
I love,
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When the round-mouth'd guns out of the smoke and smell I love
spit their salutes,
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When the fire-flashing guns have fully alerted me, and heaven-
clouds canopy my city with a delicate thin haze,
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When gorgeous the countless straight stems, the forests at the
wharves, thicken with colors,
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When every ship richly drest carries her flag at the peak, |
When pennants trail and street-festoons hang from the windows, |
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When Broadway is entirely given up to foot-passengers and foot-
standers, when the mass is densest,
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When the façades of the houses are alive with people, when eyes
gaze riveted tens of thousands at a time,
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When the guests from the islands advance, when the pageant
moves forward visible,
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When the summons is made, when the answer that waited thou-
sands of years answers,
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I too arising, answering, descend to the pavements, merge with
the crowd, and gaze with them.
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2
Comrade Americanos! to us, then at last the Orient comes. |
Where our tall-topt marble and iron beauties range on opposite
sides, to walk in the space between,
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To-day our Antipodes comes. |
The nest of languages, the bequeather of poems, the race of eld, |
Florid with blood, pensive, rapt with musings, hot with passion, |
Sultry with perfume, with ample and flowing garments, |
With sunburnt visage, with intense soul and glittering eyes, |
The race of Brahma comes. |
See my cantabile! these and more are flashing to us
from the
procession,
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As it moves changing, a kaleidoscope divine it moves changing
before us.
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For not the envoys nor the tann'd Japanee from his island only, |
Lithe and silent the Hindoo appears, the Asiatic continent itself
appears, the past, the dead,
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The murky night-morning of wonder and fable inscrutable, |
The envelop'd mysteries, the old and unknown hive-bees, |
The north, the sweltering south, eastern Assyria, the Hebrews, the
ancient of ancients,
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Vast desolated cities, the gliding present, all of these and more are
in the pageant-procession.
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Geography, the world, is in it, |
The Great Sea, the brood of islands, Polynesia, the coast beyond, |
The coast you henceforth are facing—you Libertad! from your
Western golden shores,
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The countries there with their populations, the millions en-masse
are curiously here,
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The swarming market-places, the temples with idols ranged along
the sides or at the end, bonze, brahmin, and llama,
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Mandarin, farmer, merchant, mechanic, and fisherman, |
The singing-girl and the dancing-girl, the ecstatic persons, the
secluded emperors,
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Confucius himself, the great poets and heroes, the warriors, the
castes, all,
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Trooping up, crowding from all directions, from the Altay moun-
tains,
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From Thibet, from the four winding and far-flowing rivers of
China,
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From the southern peninsulas and the demi-continental islands,
from Malaysia,
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These and whatever belongs to them palpable show forth to me,
and are seiz'd by me,
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And I am seiz'd by them, and friendlily held by them, |
Till as here them all I chant, Libertad! for themselves and for
you.
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For I too raising my voice join the ranks of this pageant, |
I am the chanter, I chant aloud over the pageant, |
I chant the world on my Western sea, |
I chant copious the islands beyond, thick as stars in the sky, |
I chant the new empire grander than any before, as in a vision it
comes to me,
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I chant America the mistress, I chant a greater supremacy, |
I chant projected a thousand blooming cities yet in time on those
groups of sea-islands,
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My sail-ships and steam-ships threading the archipelagoes, |
My stars and stripes fluttering in the wind, |
Commerce opening, the sleep of ages having done its work, races
reborn, refresh'd,
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Lives, works resumed—the object I know not—but the old, the
Asiatic renew'd as it must be,
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Commencing from this day surrounded by the world. |
3
And you Libertad of the world! |
You shall sit in the middle well-pois'd thousands and thousands of
years,
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As to-day from one side the nobles of Asia come to you, |
As to-morrow from the other side the queen of England sends her
eldest son to you.
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The sign is reversing, the orb is enclosed, |
The ring is circled, the journey is done, |
The box-lid is but perceptibly open'd, nevertheless the perfume
pours copiously out of the whole box.
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Young Libertad! with the venerable Asia, the all-mother, |
Be considerate with her now and ever hot Libertad, for you are all, |
Bend your proud neck to the long-off mother now sending mes-
sages over the archipelagoes to you,
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Bend your proud neck low for once, young Libertad. |
Were the children straying westward so long? so wide the tramping? |
Were the precedent dim ages debouching westward from Paradise
so long?
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Were the centuries steadily footing it that way, all the while
unknown, for you, for reasons?
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They are justified, they are accomplish'd, they shall now be turn'd
the other way also, to travel toward you thence,
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They shall now also march obediently eastward for your sake
Libertad.
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