 | Leaves of grass (1872) |  |
288
Long, too long, O Land.
Long, too long, O land,Traveling roads all even and peaceful, you learn'd from joys and prosperity only;
But now, ah now, to learn from crises of anguish—advancing, grappling with direst fate, and recoiling not;
And now to conceive, and show to the world, what your children en-masse really are;
(For who except myself has yet conceiv'd what your children en-masse really are?)
| Leaves of grass (1872) | |