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Leaves of Grass (1891-92)
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WASHINGTON'S MONUMENT, FEBRUARY, 1885.
Ah, not this marble, dead and cold: |
Far from its base and shaft expanding—the round zones circling,
comprehending,
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Thou, Washington, art all the world's, the continents' entire—
not yours alone, America,
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Europe's as well, in every part, castle of lord or laborer's cot, |
Or frozen North, or sultry South—the African's—the Arab's in
his tent,
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Old Asia's there with venerable smile, seated amid her ruins; |
(Greets the antique the hero new? 'tis but the same—the heir
legitimate, continued ever,
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The indomitable heart and arm—proofs of the never-broken
line,
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Courage, alertness, patience, faith, the same—e'en in defeat de-
feated not, the same:)
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Wherever sails a ship, or house is built on land, or day or night, |
Through teeming cities' streets, indoors or out, factories or farms, |
Now, or to come, or past—where patriot wills existed or exist, |
Wherever Freedom, pois'd by Toleration, sway'd by Law, |
Stands or is rising thy true monument. |
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