Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman

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LONG, too long America,

Traveling roads all even and peaceful you learn'd from joys and
prosperity only,

But now, ah now, to learn from crises of anguish, advancing, grap-
pling with direst fate and recoiling not,

And now to conceive and show to the world what your children
en-masse really are,

(For who except myself has yet conceiv'd what your children
en-masse really are?)

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