20
62
I match my spirit against yours, you orbs, growths, mountains, brutes,
Copious as you are, I absorb you all in myself, and become the master myself.
63
America isolated, yet embodying all, what is it finally except myself?
These States—what are they except myself?
64
I know now why the earth is gross, tantalizing, wicked—it is for my sake,
I take you to be mine, you beautiful, terrible, rude forms.
65
(Mother! bend down, bend close to me your face!
I know not what these plots and wars, and deferments are for;
I know not fruition's success—but I know that through war and peace your work goes on, and must yet go on.)
