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Leaves of Grass (1891-92)
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SONG OF THE EXPOSITION.
1
(Ah little recks the laborer, |
How near his work is holding him to God, |
The loving Laborer through space and time.) |
After all not to create only, or found only, |
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But to bring perhaps from afar what is already founded, |
To give it our own identity, average, limitless, free, |
To fill the gross the torpid bulk with vital religious fire, |
Not to repel or destroy so much as accept, fuse, rehabilitate, |
To obey as well as command, to follow more than to lead, |
These also are the lessons of our New World; |
While how little the New after all, how much the Old, Old World! |
Long and long has the grass been growing, |
Long and long has the rain been falling, |
Long has the globe been rolling round. |
2
Come Muse migrate from Greece and Ionia, |
Cross out please those immensely overpaid accounts, |
That matter of Troy and Achilles' wrath, and Aeneas', Odysseus'
wanderings,
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Placard "Removed" and "To Let" on the rocks of your snowy
Parnassus,
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Repeat at Jerusalem, place the notice high on Jaffa's gate and on
Mount Moriah,
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The same on the walls of your German, French and Spanish
castles, and Italian collections,
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For know a better, fresher, busier sphere, a wide, untried domain
awaits, demands you.
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3
Responsive to our summons, |
Or rather to her long-nurs'd inclination, |
Join'd with an irresistible, natural gravitation, |
She comes! I hear the rustling of her gown, |
I scent the odor of her breath's delicious fragrance, |
I mark her step divine, her curious eyes a-turning, rolling, |
The dame of dames! can I believe then, |
Those ancient temples, sculptures classic, could none of them
retain her?
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Nor shades of Virgil and Dante, nor myriad memories, poems,
old associations, magnetize and hold on to her?
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But that she's left them all—and here? |
Yes, if you will allow me to say so, |
I, my friends, if you do not, can plainly see her, |
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The same undying soul of earth's, activity's, beauty's, heroism's
expression,
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Out from her evolutions hither come, ended the strata of her
former themes,
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Hidden and cover'd by to-day's, foundation of to-day's, |
Ended, deceas'd through time, her voice by Castaly's fountain, |
Silent the broken-lipp'd Sphynx in Egypt, silent all those century-
baffling tombs,
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Ended for aye the epics of Asia's, Europe's helmeted warriors,
ended the primitive call of the muses,
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Calliope's call forever closed, Clio, Melpomene, Thalia dead, |
Ended the stately rhythmus of Una and Oriana, ended the quest
of the holy Graal,
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Jerusalem a handful of ashes blown by the wind, extinct, |
The Crusaders' streams of shadowy midnight troops sped with the
sunrise,
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Amadis, Tancred, utterly gone, Charlemagne, Roland, Oliver gone, |
Palmerin, ogre, departed, vanish'd the turrets that Usk from its
waters reflected,
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Arthur vanish'd with all his knights, Merlin and Lancelot and
Galahad, all gone, dissolv'd utterly like an exhalation;
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Pass'd! pass'd! for us, forever pass'd, that once so mighty world,
now void, inanimate, phantom world,
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Embroider'd, dazzling, foreign world, with all its gorgeous legends,
myths,
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Its kings and castles proud, its priests and warlike lords and
courtly dames,
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Pass'd to its charnel vault, coffin'd with crown and armor on, |
Blazon'd with Shakspere's purple page, |
And dirged by Tennyson's sweet sad rhyme. |
I say I see, my friends, if you do not, the illustrious emigré,
(having it is true in her day, although the same, changed,
journey'd considerable,)
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Making directly for this rendezvous, vigorously clearing a path for
herself, striding through the confusion,
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By thud of machinery and shrill steam-whistle undismay'd, |
Bluff'd not a bit by drain-pipe, gasometers, artificial fertilizers, |
Smiling and pleas'd with palpable intent to stay, |
She's here, install'd amid the kitchen ware! |
4
But hold—don't I forget my manners? |
To introduce the stranger, (what else indeed do I live to chant
for?) to thee Columbia;
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In liberty's name welcome immortal! clasp hands, |
And ever henceforth sisters dear be both. |
Fear not O Muse! truly new ways and days receive, surround you, |
I candidly confess a queer, queer race, of novel fashion, |
And yet the same old human race, the same within, without, |
Faces and hearts the same, feelings the same, yearnings the same, |
The same old love, beauty and use the same. |
5
We do not blame thee elder World, nor really separate ourselves
from thee,
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(Would the son separate himself from the father?) |
Looking back on thee, seeing thee to thy duties, grandeurs,
through past ages bending, building,
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Mightier than Egypt's tombs, |
Fairer than Grecia's, Roma's temples, |
Prouder than Milan's statued, spired cathedral, |
More picturesque than Rhenish castle-keeps, |
We plan even now to raise, beyond them all, |
Thy great cathedral sacred industry, no tomb, |
A keep for life for practical invention. |
E'en while I chant I see it rise, I scan and prophesy outside
and in,
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Around a palace, loftier, fairer, ampler than any yet, |
Earth's modern wonder, history's seven outstripping, |
High rising tier on tier with glass and iron façades, |
Gladdening the sun and sky, enhued in cheerfulest hues, |
Bronze, lilac, robin's-egg, marine and crimson, |
Over whose golden roof shall flaunt, beneath thy banner Freedom, |
The banners of the States and flags of every land, |
A brood of lofty, fair, but lesser palaces shall cluster. |
Somewhere within their walls shall all that forwards perfect human
life be started,
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Tried, taught, advanced, visibly exhibited. |
Not only all the world of works, trade, products, |
But all the workmen of the world here to be represented. |
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Here shall you trace in flowing operation, |
In every state of practical, busy movement, the rills of civilization, |
Materials here under your eye shall change their shape as if by
magic,
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The cotton shall be pick'd almost in the very field, |
Shall be dried, clean'd, ginn'd, baled, spun into thread and cloth
before you,
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You shall see hands at work at all the old processes and all the
new ones,
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You shall see the various grains and how flour is made and then
bread baked by the bakers,
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You shall see the crude ores of California and Nevada passing on
and on till they become bullion,
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You shall watch how the printer sets type, and learn what a com-
posing-stick is,
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You shall mark in amazement the Hoe press whirling its cylinders,
shedding the printed leaves steady and fast,
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The photograph, model, watch, pin, nail, shall be created before
you.
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In large calm halls, a stately museum shall teach you the infinite
lessons of minerals,
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In another, woods, plants, vegetation shall be illustrated—in
another animals, animal life and development.
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One stately house shall be the music house, |
Others for other arts—learning, the sciences, shall all be here, |
None shall be slighted, none but shall here be honor'd, help'd,
exampled.
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6
(This, this and these, America, shall be your pyramids and
obelisks,
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Your Alexandrian Pharos, gardens of Babylon, |
The male and female many laboring not, |
Shall ever here confront the laboring many, |
With precious benefits to both, glory to all, |
To thee America, and thee eternal Muse. |
And here shall ye inhabit powerful Matrons! |
In your vast state vaster than all the old, |
Echoed through long, long centuries to come, |
To sound of different, prouder songs, with stronger themes, |
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Practical, peaceful life, the people's life, the People themselves, |
Lifted, illumin'd, bathed in peace—elate, secure in peace. |
7
Away with themes of war! away with war itself! |
Hence from my shuddering sight to never more return that show
of blacken'd, mutilated corpses!
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That hell unpent and raid of blood, fit for wild tigers or for lop-
tongued wolves, not reasoning men,
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And in its stead speed industry's campaigns, |
With thy undaunted armies, engineering, |
Thy pennants labor, loosen'd to the breeze, |
Thy bugles sounding loud and clear. |
Away with novels, plots and plays of foreign courts, |
Away with love-verses sugar'd in rhyme, the intrigues, amours of
idlers,
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Fitted for only banquets of the night where dancers to late music
slide,
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The unhealthy pleasures, extravagant dissipations of the few, |
With perfumes, heat and wine, beneath the dazzling chandeliers. |
To you ye reverent sane sisters, |
I raise a voice for far superber themes for poets and for art, |
To exalt the present and the real, |
To teach the average man the glory of his daily walk and trade, |
To sing in songs how exercise and chemical life are never to be
baffled,
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To manual work for each and all, to plough, hoe, dig, |
To plant and tend the tree, the berry, vegetables, flowers, |
For every man to see to it that he really do something, for every
woman too;
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To use the hammer and the saw, (rip, or cross-cut,) |
To cultivate a turn for carpentering, plastering, painting, |
To work as tailor, tailoress, nurse, hostler, porter, |
To invent a little, something ingenious, to aid the washing, cook-
ing, cleaning,
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And hold it no disgrace to take a hand at them themselves. |
I say I bring thee Muse to-day and here, |
All occupations, duties broad and close, |
Toil, healthy toil and sweat, endless, without cessation, |
The old, old practical burdens, interests, joys, |
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The family, parentage, childhood, husband and wife, |
The house-comforts, the house itself and all its belongings, |
Food and its preservation, chemistry applied to it, |
Whatever forms the average, strong, complete, sweet-blooded man
or woman, the perfect longeve personality,
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And helps its present life to health and happiness, and shapes its soul, |
For the eternal real life to come. |
With latest connections, works, the inter-transportation of the world, |
Steam-power, the great express lines, gas, petroleum, |
These triumphs of our time, the Atlantic's delicate cable, |
The Pacific railroad, the Suez canal, the Mont Cenis and Gothard
and Hoosac tunnels, the Brooklyn bridge,
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This earth all spann'd with iron rails, with lines of steamships
threading every sea,
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Our own rondure, the current globe I bring. |
8
Thy offspring towering e'er so high, yet higher Thee above all
towering,
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With Victory on thy left, and at thy right hand Law; |
Thou Union holding all, fusing, absorbing, tolerating all, |
Thou, also thou, a World, |
With all thy wide geographies, manifold, different, distant, |
Rounded by thee in one—one common orbic language, |
One common indivisible destiny for All. |
And by the spells which ye vouchsafe to those your ministers in
earnest,
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I here personify and call my themes, to make them pass before ye. |
Behold, America! (and thou, ineffable guest and sister!) |
For thee come trooping up thy waters and thy lands; |
Behold! thy fields and farms, thy far-off woods and mountains, |
And on its limitless, heaving breast, the ships; |
See, where their white sails, bellying in the wind, speckle the green
and blue,
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See, the steamers coming and going, steaming in or out of port, |
See, dusky and undulating, the long pennants of smoke. |
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Behold, in Oregon, far in the north and west, |
Or in Maine, far in the north and east, thy cheerful axemen, |
Wielding all day their axes. |
Behold, on the lakes, thy pilots at their wheels, thy oarsmen, |
How the ash writhes under those muscular arms! |
There by the furnace, and there by the anvil, |
Behold thy sturdy blacksmiths swinging their sledges, |
Overhand so steady, overhand they turn and fall with joyous clank, |
Like a tumult of laughter. |
Mark the spirit of invention everywhere, thy rapid patents, |
Thy continual workshops, foundries, risen or rising, |
See, from their chimneys how the tall flame-fires stream. |
Mark, thy interminable farms, North, South, |
Thy wealthy daughter-states, Eastern and Western, |
The varied products of Ohio, Pennsylvania, Missouri, Georgia,
Texas, and the rest,
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Thy limitless crops, grass, wheat, sugar, oil, corn, rice, hemp, hops, |
Thy barns all fill'd, the endless freight-train and the bulging
storehouse,
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The grapes that ripen on thy vines, the apples in thy orchards, |
Thy incalculable lumber, beef, pork, potatoes, thy coal, thy gold
and silver,
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The inexhaustible iron in thy mines. |
All thine O sacred Union! |
Ships, farms, shops, barns, factories, mines, |
City and State, North, South, item and aggregate, |
We dedicate, dread Mother, all to thee! |
Protectress absolute, thou! bulwark of all! |
For well we know that while thou givest each and all,(generous
as God,)
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Without thee neither all nor each, nor land, home, |
Nor ship, nor mine, nor any here this day secure, |
Nor aught, nor any day secure. |
9
And thou, the Emblem waving over all! |
Delicate beauty, a word to thee, (it may be salutary,) |
Remember thou hast not always been as here to-day so comfortably
ensovereign'd,
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In other scenes than these have I observ'd thee flag, |
Not quite so trim and whole and freshly blooming in folds of stain-
less silk,
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But I have seen thee bunting, to tatters torn upon thy splinter'd staff, |
Or clutch'd to some young color-bearer's breast with desperate hands, |
Savagely struggled for, for life or death, fought over long, |
'Mid cannons' thunder-crash and many a curse and groan and yell,
and rifle-volleys cracking sharp,
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And moving masses as wild demons surging, and lives as nothing
risk'd,
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For thy mere remnant grimed with dirt and smoke and sopp'd in
blood,
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For sake of that, my beauty, and that thou might'st dally as now
secure up there,
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Many a good man have I seen go under. |
Now here and these and hence in peace, all thine O Flag! |
And here and hence for thee, O universal Muse! and thou for them! |
And here and hence O Union, all the work and workmen thine! |
None separate from thee—henceforth One only, we and thou, |
(For the blood of the children, what is it, only the blood
maternal?
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And lives and works, what are they all at last, except the roads to
faith and death?)
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While we rehearse our measureless wealth, it is for thee, dear
Mother,
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We own it all and several to-day indissoluble in thee; |
Think not our chant, our show, merely for products gross or lucre
—it is for thee, the soul in thee, electric, spiritual!
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Our farms, inventions, crops, we own in thee! cities and States in
thee!
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Our freedom all in thee! our very lives in thee! |
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