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Leaves of Grass (1881-82)
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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? |
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 every thing was alive,
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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. |
2
Not a day passes, not a minute or second without an accouche-
ment,
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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,
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The children come hurried and weeping, and the brothers and
sisters are sent for,
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Medicines stand unused on the shelf, (the camphor-smell has long
pervaded the rooms,)
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The faithful hand of the living does not desert the hand of the
dying,
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The twitching lips press lightly on the forehead of the dying, |
The breath ceases and the pulse of the heart ceases, |
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 eyesight, |
But without eyesight lingers a different living and looks curiously
on the corpse.
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3
To think the thought of death merged in the thought of materials, |
To think of all these wonders of city and country, and others taking
great interest in them, and we taking no interest in them.
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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,
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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,
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He that was President was buried, and he that is now President
shall surely be buried.
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4
A reminiscence of the vulgar fate, |
A frequent sample of the life and death of workmen, |
Cold dash of waves at the ferry-wharf, posh and ice in the river,
half-frozen mud in the streets,
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A gray discouraged sky overhead, the short last daylight of
December,
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A hearse and stages, the funeral of an old Broadway stage-driver,
the cortege mostly drivers.
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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,
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The coffin is pass'd out, lower'd and settled, the whip is laid on
the coffin, the earth is swiftly shovel'd in,
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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 any thing more? |
He was a good fellow, free-mouth'd, quick-temper'd, not bad-
looking,
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Ready with life or death for a friend, fond of women, gambled,
ate hearty, drank hearty,
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Had known what it was to be flush, grew low-spirited toward the
last, sicken'd, was help'd by a contribution,
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Died, aged forty-one years—and that was his funeral. |
Thumb extended, finger uplifted, apron, cape, gloves, strap, wet-
weather clothes, whip carefully chosen,
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Boss, spotter, starter, hostler, somebody loafing on you, you loafing
on somebody, headway, man before and man behind,
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Good day's work, bad day's work, pet stock, mean stock, first out,
last out, turning-in at night,
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To think that these are so much and so nigh to other drivers, and
he there takes no interest in them.
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5
The markets, the government, the working-man's wages, to think
what account they are through our nights and days,
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To think that other working-men will make just as great account
of them, yet we make little or no account.
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The vulgar and the refined, what you call sin and what you call
goodness, to think how wide a difference,
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To think the difference will still continue to others, yet we lie
beyond the difference.
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To think how much pleasure there is, |
Do you enjoy yourself in the city? or engaged in business? or
planning a nomination and election? or with your wife and
family?
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Or with your mother and sisters? or in womanly housework? or
the beautiful maternal cares?
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These also flow onward to others, you and I flow onward, |
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?
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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. |
The domestic joys, the daily housework or business, the building
of houses, are not phantasms, they have weight, form,
location,
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Farms, profits, crops, markets, wages, government, are none of
them phantasms,
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The difference between sin and goodness is no delusion, |
The earth is not an echo, man and his life and all the things of
his life are well-consider'd.
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You are not thrown to the winds, you gather certainly and safely
around yourself,
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Yourself! yourself! yourself, for ever and ever! |
7
It is not to diffuse you that you were born of your mother and
father, it is to identify you,
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It is not that you should be undecided, but that you should be
decided,
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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.
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The preparations have every one been justified, |
The orchestra have sufficiently tuned their instruments, the baton
has given the signal.
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The guest that was coming, he waited long, 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.
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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, |
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.
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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,
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And they between, and all through the Mississippi country, and
all over the earth.
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The great masters and kosmos are well as they go, the heroes and
good-doers are well,
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The known leaders and inventors and the rich owners and pious
and distinguish'd may be well,
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But there is more account than that, there is strict account of
all.
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The interminable hordes of the ignorant and wicked are not
nothing,
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The barbarians of Africa and Asia are not nothing, |
The perpetual successions of shallow people are not nothing as
they go.
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Of and in all these things, |
I have dream'd that we are not to be changed so much, nor the
law of us changed,
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I have dream'd that heroes and good-doers shall be under the
present and past law,
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And that murderers, drunkards, liars, shall be under the present
and past law,
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For I have dream'd that the law they are under now is enough. |
And I have dream'd that the purpose and essence of the known
life, the transient,
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Is to form and decide identity for the unknown life, the permanent. |
If all came but to ashes of dung, |
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,
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Do you think I could walk pleasantly and well-suited toward
annihilation?
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Pleasantly and well-suited I walk, |
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! |
What is called good is perfect, and what is called bad is just as
perfect,
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The vegetables and minerals are all perfect, and the imponderable
fluids perfect;
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Slowly and surely they have pass'd on to this, and slowly and surely
they yet pass on.
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9
I swear I think now that every thing without exception has an
eternal soul!
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The trees have, rooted in the ground! the weeds of the sea have!
the animals!
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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!
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And all preparation is for it—and identity is for it—and life and
materials are altogether for it!
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