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Leaves of grass (1872) | ||
6
16
Dead poets, philosophs, priests,Martyrs, artists, inventors, governments long since,
Language-shapers, on other shores,
Nations once powerful, now reduced, withdrawn, or desolate,
I dare not proceed till I respectfully credit what you have left, wafted hither:
I have perused it—own it is admirable, (moving awhile among it;)
Think nothing can ever be greater—nothing can ever deserve more than it deserves;
Regarding it all intently a long while—then dismissing it,
I stand in my place, with my own day, here.
17
Here lands female and male;Here the heir-ship and heiress-ship of the world—here the flame of materials;
Here Spirituality, the translatress, the openly-avow'd,
The ever-tending, the finale of visible forms;
The satisfier, after due long-waiting, now advancing,
Yes, here comes my mistress, the Soul.
Leaves of grass (1872) | ||