 | Leaves of grass (1872) |  |
245
4
7
See, my cantabile! these, and more, are flashing to us from the procession;As it moves, changing, a kaleidoscope divine it moves, changing, before us.
8
For not the envoys, nor the tann'd Japanee from his island only;Lithe and silent, the Hindoo appears—the Asiatic continent itself appears—the Past, the dead,
The murky night-morning of wonder and fable, inscrutable,
The envelop'd mysteries, the old and unknown hivebees,
The North—the sweltering South—eastern Assyria—the Hebrews—the Ancient of Ancients,
Vast desolated cities—the gliding Present—all of these, and more, are in the pageant-procession.
9
Geography, the world, is in it;The Great Sea, the brood of islands, Polynesia, the coast beyond;
The coast you, henceforth, are facing—you Libertad! from your Western golden shores
The countries there, with their populations—the millions en-masse, are curiously here;
The swarming market places—the temples, with idols ranged along the sides, or at the end—bonze, brahmin, and lama;
The mandarin, farmer, merchant, mechanic, and fisherman;
The singing-girl and the dancing-girl—the ecstatic person—the secluded Emperors,
Confucius himself—the great poets and heroes—the warriors, the castes, all,
Trooping up, crowding from all directions—from the Altay mountains,
From Thibet—from the four winding and far-flowing rivers of China,
From the Southern peninsulas, and the demi-continental islands—from Malaysia;
246
And I am seiz'd by them, and friendly held by them,
Till, as here, them, all I chant, Libertad! for themselves and for you.
| Leaves of grass (1872) | |