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Leaves of Grass (1891-92)
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RISE O DAYS FROM YOUR FATHOMLESS DEEPS.
1
RISE O days from your fathomless deeps, till you loftier, fiercer
sweep,
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Long for my soul hungering gymnastic I devour'd what the earth
gave me,
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Long I roam'd the woods of the north, long I watch'd Niagara
pouring,
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I travel'd the prairies over and slept on their breast, I cross'd the
Nevadas, I cross'd the plateaus,
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I ascended the towering rocks along the Pacific, I sail'd out to
sea,
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I sail'd through the storm, I was refresh'd by the storm, |
I watch'd with joy the threatening maws of the waves, |
I mark'd the white combs where they career'd so high, curling
over,
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I heard the wind piping, I saw the black clouds, |
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Saw from below what arose and mounted, (O superb! O wild as
my heart, and powerful!)
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Heard the continuous thunder as it bellow'd after the lightning, |
Noted the slender and jagged threads of lightning as sudden and
fast amid the din they chased each other across the sky;
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These, and such as these, I, elate, saw—saw with wonder, yet
pensive and masterful,
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All the menacing might of the globe uprisen around me, |
Yet there with my soul I fed, I fed content, supercilious. |
2
'Twas well, O soul—'twas a good preparation you gave me, |
Now we advance our latent and ampler hunger to fill, |
Now we go forth to receive what the earth and the sea never
gave us,
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Not through the mighty woods we go, but through the mightier
cities,
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Something for us is pouring now more than Niagara pouring, |
Torrents of men, (sources and rills of the Northwest are you
indeed inexhaustible?)
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What, to pavements and homesteads here, what were those storms
of the mountains and sea?
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What, to passions I witness around me to-day? was the sea risen? |
Was the wind piping the pipe of death under the black clouds? |
Lo! from deeps more unfathomable, something more deadly and
savage,
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Manhattan rising, advancing with menacing front—Cincinnati,
Chicago, unchain'd;
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What was that swell I saw on the ocean? behold what comes here, |
How it climbs with daring feet and hands—how it dashes! |
How the true thunder bellows after the lightning—how bright
the flashes of lightning!
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How Democracy with desperate vengeful port strides on, shown
through the dark by those flashes of lightning!
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(Yet a mournful wail and low sob I fancied I heard through the
dark,
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In a lull of the deafening confusion.) |
3
Thunder on! stride on, Democracy! strike with vengeful stroke! |
And do you rise higher than ever yet O days, O cities! |
Crash heavier, heavier yet O storms! you have done me good, |
My soul prepared in the mountains absorbs your immortal strong
nutriment,
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Long had I walk'd my cities, my country roads through farms,
only half satisfied,
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One doubt nauseous undulating like a snake, crawl'd on the
ground before me,
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Continually preceding my steps, turning upon me oft, ironically
hissing low;
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The cities I loved so well I abandon'd and left, I sped to the
certainties suitable to me,
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Hungering, hungering, hungering, for primal energies and Nature's
dauntlessness,
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I refresh'd myself with it only, I could relish it only, |
I waited the bursting forth of the pent fire—on the water and air
I waited long;
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But now I no longer wait, I am fully satisfied, I am glutted, |
I have witness'd the true lightning, I have witness'd my cities
electric,
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I have lived to behold man burst forth and warlike America rise, |
Hence I will seek no more the food of the northern solitary wilds, |
No more the mountains roam or sail the stormy sea. |
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