University of Virginia Library

77   The pure contralto sings in the organ loft;
The carpenter dresses his plank — the tongue of his      foreplane whistles its wild ascending lisp;
The married and unmarried children ride home to      their Thanksgiving dinner;
The pilot seizes the king-pin — he heaves down with a      strong arm;
The mate stands braced in the whale-boat — lance and      harpoon are ready;
The duck-shooter walks by silent and cautious      stretches;
The deacons are ordain'd with cross'd hands at the      altar;
The spinning-girl retreats and advances to the hum of      the big wheel;
The farmer stops by the bars, as he walks on a First-     day loafe, and looks at the oats and rye;
The lunatic is carried at last to the asylum, a confirm'd      case,
(He will never sleep any more as he did in the cot in      his mother's bed-room;)
The jour printer with gray head and gaunt jaws works      at his case,
He turns his quid of tobacco, while his eyes blurr with      the manuscript;
The malform'd limbs are tied to the surgeon's table,
What is removed drops horribly in a pail;
The quadroon girl is sold at the stand — the drunkard.      nods by the bar-room stove;
The machinist rolls up his sleeves — the policeman      travels his beat — the gate-keeper marks who pass;
The young fellow drives the express-wagon — (I love      him, though I do not know him;)
The half-breed straps on his light boots to compete in      the race;
The western turkey-shooting draws old and young —      some lean on their rifles, some sit on logs,
Out from the crowd steps the marksman, takes his      position, levels his piece;
The groups of newly-come immigrants cover the      wharf or levee;
As the woolly-pates hoe in the sugar-field, the overseer      views them from his saddle;
The bugle calls in the ball-room, the gentlemen run for      their partners, the dancers bow to each other;
The youth lies awake in the cedar-roof'd garret, and      harks to the musical rain;
The Wolverine sets traps on the creek that helps fill the      Huron;
The squaw, wrapt in her yellow-hemm'd cloth, is      offering moccasins and bead-bags for sale;
The connoisseur peers along the exhibition-gallery with      half-shut eyes bent side-ways;
As the deck-hands make fast the steamboat, the plank      is thrown for the shore-going passengers;
The young sister holds out the skein, while the elder      sister winds it off in a ball, and stops now and      then for the knots;
The one-year wife is recovering and happy, having a      week ago borne her first child;
The clean-hair'd Yankee girl works with her sewing-     machine, or in the factory or mill;
The nine months' gone is in the parturition chamber,      her faintness and pains are advancing;
The paving-man leans on his two handed rammer —      the reporter's lead flies swiftly over the note-book       — the sign-painter is lettering with red and gold;
The canal boy trots on the tow path — the bookkeeper      counts at his desk, the shoemaker waxes his      thread;
The conductor beats time for the band, and all the      performers follow him;
The child is baptized — the convert is making his first      professions;
The regatta is spread on the bay — the race is begun       — how the white sails sparkle!
The drover, watching his drove, sings out to them that      would stray;
The pedler sweats with his pack on his back, (the pur-     chaser higgling about the odd cent;)
The camera and plate are prepared, the lady must sit      for her daguerreotype;
The bride unrumples her white dress, the minute-hand      of the clock moves slowly;
The opium-eater reclines with rigid head and just-     open'd lips;
The prostitute draggles her shawl, her bonnet bobs on      her tipsy and pimpled neck;
The crowd laugh at her blackguard oaths, the men      jeer and wink to each other;
(Miserable! I do not laugh at your oaths, nor jeer you;)
The President, holding a cabinet council, is surrounded      by the Great Secretaries;
On the piazza walk three matrons stately and friendly      with twined arms;
The crew of the fish-smack pack repeated layers of      halibut in the hold;
The Missourian crosses the plains, toting his wares and      his cattle;
As the fare-collector goes through the train, he gives      notice by the jingling of loose change;
The floor-men are laying the floor — the tinners are      tinning the roof — the masons are calling for      mortar;
In single file, each shouldering his hod, pass onward      the laborers;
Seasons pursuing each other, the indescribable crowd      is gather'd — it is the Fourth of Seventh-month       — (What salutes of cannon and small arms!)
Seasons pursuing each other, the plougher ploughs, the      mower mows, and the winter-grain falls in the      ground;
Off on the lakes the pike-fisher watches and waits by      the hole in the frozen surface;
The stumps stand thick round the clearing, the squatter      strikes deep with his axe;
Flatboatmen make fast, towards dusk, near the cotton-     wood or pekan-trees;
Coon-seekers go through the regions of the Red river,      or through those drain'd by the Tennessee, or      through those of the Arkansaw;
Torches shine in the dark that hangs on the Chatta-     hooche or Altamahaw;
Patriarchs sit at supper with sons and grandsons and      great-grandsons around them;
In walls of adobie, in canvas tents, rest hunters and      trappers after their day's sport;
The city sleeps, and the country sleeps;
The living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their      time;
The old husband sleeps by his wife, and the young      husband sleeps by his wife;
And these one and all tend inward to me, and I tend      outward to them;
And such as it is to be of these, more or less, I am.