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Leaves of Grass (1881-82)
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AS I PONDER'D IN SILENCE.
AS I ponder'd in silence, |
Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long, |
A Phantom arose before me with distrustful aspect, |
Terrible in beauty, age, and power, |
The genius of poets of old lands, |
As to me directing like flame its eyes, |
With finger pointing to many immortal songs, |
And menacing voice, What singest thou? it said, |
Know'st thou not there is but one theme for ever-enduring bards? |
And that is the theme of War, the fortune of battles, |
The making of perfect soldiers. |
Be it so, then I answered, |
I too haughty Shade also sing war, and a longer and greater one
than any,
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Waged in my book with varying fortune, with flight, advance and
retreat, victory deferr'd and wavering,
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(Yet methinks certain, or as good as certain, at the last,) the field
the world,
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For life and death, for the Body and for the eternal Soul, |
Lo, I too am come, chanting the chant of battles, |
I above all promote brave soldiers. |
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