 | Leaves of grass (1872) |  |
373
SONGS OF PARTING.
AS THE TIME DRAWS NIGH.
1
1
As the time draws nigh, glooming, a cloud,A dread beyond, of I know not what, darkens me.
2
I shall go forth,I shall traverse The States awhile—but I cannot tell whither or how long;
Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my voice will suddenly cease.
2
3
O book, O chants! must all then amount to but this?Must we barely arrive at this beginning of us? ...
And yet it is enough, O soul!
O soul! we have positively appear'd—that is enough.
YEARS OF THE MODERN.
Years of the modern! years of the unperform'd!Your horizon rises—I see it parting away for more august dramas;
I see not America only—I see not only Liberty's nation, but other nations preparing;
374
I see that force advancing with irresistible power on the world's stage;
(Have the old forces, the old wars, played their parts? are the acts suitable to them closed?)
I see Freedom, completely arm'd, and victorious, and very haughty, with Law on one side, and Peace on the other,
A stupendous Trio, all issuing forth against the idea of caste;
—What historic denouements are these we so rapidly approach?
I see men marching and countermarching by swift millions;
I see the frontiers and boundaries of the old aristocracies broken;
I see the landmarks of European kings removed;
I see this day the People beginning their landmarks, (all others give way;)
—Never were such sharp questions ask'd as this day;
Never was average man, his soul, more energetic, more like a God;
Lo! how he urges and urges, leaving the masses no rest;
His daring foot is on land and sea everywhere—he colonizes the Pacific, the archipelagoes;
With the steam-ship, the electric telegraph, the newspaper, the wholesale engines of war,
With these, and the world-spreading factories, he interlinks all geography, all lands;
—What whispers are these, O lands, running ahead of you, passing under the seas?
Are all nations communing? is there going to be but one heart to the globe?
Is humanity forming, en-masse?—for lo! tyrants tremble, crowns grow dim;
The earth, restive, confronts a new era, perhaps a general divine war;
No one knows what will happen next—such portents fill the days and nights;
375
Unborn deeds, things soon to be, project their shapes around me;
This incredible rush and heat—this strange extatic fever of dreams, O years!
Your dreams, O years, how they penetrate through me! (I know not whether I sleep or wake!)
The perform'd America and Europe grow dim, retiring in shadow behind me,
The unperform'd, more gigantic than ever, advance, advance upon me.
THOUGHTS.
1
Of these years I sing,How they pass and have pass'd, through convuls'd pains, as through parturitions;
How America illustrates birth, muscular youth, the promise, the sure fulfillment, the Absolute Success, despite of people—Illustrates evil as well as good;
How many hold despairingly yet to the models departed, caste, myths, obedience, compulsion, and to infidelity;
How few see the arrived models, the Athletes, the Western States—or see freedom or spirituality—or hold any faith in results,
(But I see the Athletes—and I see the results of the war glorious and inevitable—and they again leading to other results;)
How the great cities appear—How the Democratic masses, turbulent, wilful, as I love them;
How the whirl, the contest, the wrestle of evil with good, the sounding and resounding, keep on and on;
376
How America is the continent of glories, and of the triumph of freedom, and of the Democracies, and of the fruits of society, and of all that is begun;
And how The States are complete in themselves—And how all triumphs and glories are complete in themselves, to lead onward,
And how these of mine, and of The States, will in their turn be convuls'd, and serve other parturitions and transitions,
And how all people, sights, combinations, the Democratic masses, too, serve—and how every fact, and war itself, with all its horrors, serves,
And how now, or at any time, each serves the exquisite transition of death.
2
Of seeds dropping into the ground—of birth,Of the steady concentration of America, inland, upward, to impregnable and swarming places,
Of what Indiana, Kentucky, Ohio and the rest, are to be,
Of what a few years will show there in Nebraska, Colorado, Nevada, and the rest;
(Or afar, mounting the Northern Pacific to Sitka or Aliaska;)
Of what the feuillage of America is the preparation for—and of what all sights, North, South, East and West, are;
Of This Union, soak'd, welded in blood—of the solemn price paid—of the unnamed lost, ever present in my mind;
—Of the temporary use of materials, for identity's sake,
Of the present, passing, departing—of the growth of completer men than any yet,
Of myself, soon, perhaps, closing up my songs by these shores,
Of California, of Oregon—and of me journeying to live and sing there;
377
Of the great pastoral area, athletic and feminine,
Of all sloping down there where the fresh free giver, the mother, the Mississippi flows,
Of future women there—of happiness in those high plateaus, ranging three thousand miles, warm and cold;
Of mighty inland cities yet unsurvey'd and unsuspected, (as I am also, and as it must be;)
Of the new and good names—of the modern developments—of inalienable homesteads;
Of a free and original life there—of simple diet and clean and sweet blood;
Of litheness, majestic faces, clear eyes, and perfect physique there;
Of immense spiritual results, future years, far west, each side of the Anahuacs;
Of these leaves, well understood there, (being made for that area;)
Of the native scorn of grossness and gain there;
(O it lurks in me night and day—What is gain, after all, to savageness and freedom?)
Song at Sunset.
1
Splendor of ended day, floating and filling me!Hour prophetic—hour resuming the past!
Inflating my throat—you, divine average!
You, Earth and Life, till the last ray gleams, I sing.
2
Open mouth of my Soul, uttering gladness,Eyes of my Soul, seeing perfection,
Natural life of me, faithfully praising things;
Corroborating forever the triumph of things.
378
3
Illustrious every one!Illustrious what we name space—sphere of unnumber'd spirits;
Illustrious the mystery of motion, in all beings, even the tiniest insect;
Illustrious the attribute of speech—the senses—the body;
Illustrious the passing light! Illustrious the pale reflection on the new moon in the western sky!
Illustrious whatever I see, or hear, or touch, to the last.
4
Good in all,In the satisfaction and aplomb of animals,
In the annual return of the seasons,
In the hilarity of youth,
In the strength and flush of manhood,
In the grandeur and exquisiteness of old age,
In the superb vistas of Death.
5
Wonderful to depart;Wonderful to be here!
The heart, to jet the all-alike and innocent blood!
To breathe the air, how delicious!
To speak! to walk! to seize something by the hand!
To prepare for sleep, for bed—to look on my rose-color'd flesh;
To be conscious of my body, so satisfied, so large;
To be this incredible God I am;
To have gone forth among the other Gods—these men and women I love.
6
Wonderful how I celebrate you and myself!How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles around!
How the clouds pass silently overhead!
How the earth darts on and on! and how the sun, moon, stars, dart on and on!
How the water sports and sings! (Surely it is alive!)
How the trees rise and stand up—with strong trunks—with branches and leaves!
(Surely there is something more in each of the trees—some living Soul.)
379
7
O amazement of things! even the least particle!O spirituality of things!
O strain musical, flowing through ages and continents—now reaching me and America!
I take your strong chords—I intersperse them, and cheerfully pass them forward.
8
I too carol the sun, usher'd, or at noon, or, as now, setting,I too throb to the brain and beauty of the earth, and of all the growths of the earth,
I too have felt the resistless call of myself.
9
As I sail'd down the Mississippi,As I wander'd over the prairies,
As I have lived—As I have look'd through my windows, my eyes,
As I went forth in the morning—As I beheld the light breaking in the east;
As I bathed on the beach of the Eastern Sea, and again on the beach of the Western Sea;
As I roam'd the streets of inland Chicago—whatever streets I have roam'd;
Or cities, or silent woods, or peace, or even amid the sights of war;
Wherever I have been, I have charged myself with contentment and triumph.
10
I sing the Equalities, modern or old,I sing the endless finales of things;
I say Nature continues—Glory continues;
I praise with electric voice;
For I do not see one imperfection in the universe;
And I do not see one cause or result lamentable at last in the universe.
11
O setting sun! though the time has come,I still warble under you, if none else does, unmitigated adoration.
380
When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer.
When I heard the learn'd astronomer;When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;
When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;
When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;
Till rising and gliding out, I wander'd off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.
To Rich Givers.
What you give me, I cheerfully accept,A little sustenance, a hut and garden, a little money—these, as I rendezvous with my poems;
A traveler's lodging and breakfast as I journey through The States—Why should I be ashamed to own such gifts? Why to advertise for them?
For I myself am not one who bestows nothing upon man and woman;
For I bestow upon any man or woman the entrance to all the gifts of the universe.
Thought.
Of what I write from myself—As if that were not the resumé;Of Histories—As if such, however complete, were not less complete than the preceding poems;
As if those shreds, the records of nations, could possibly be as lasting as the preceding poems;
As if here were not the amount of all nations, and of all the lives of heroes.
381
SO LONG!
1
1
To conclude—I announce what comes after me;I announce mightier offspring, orators, days, and then, for the present, depart.
2
I remember I said, before my leaves sprang at all,I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with reference to consummations.
3
When America does what was promis'd,When there are plentiful athletic bards, inland and seaboard,
When through These States walk a hundred millions of superb persons,
When the rest part away for superb persons, and contribute to them,
When breeds of the most perfect mothers denote America,
Then to me and mine our due fruition.
4
I have press'd through in my own right,I have sung the Body and the Soul—War and Peace have I sung,
And the songs of Life and of Birth—and shown that there are many births:
I have offer'd my style to every one—I have journey'd with confident step;
While my pleasure is yet at the full, I whisper, So long!
And take the young woman's hand, and the young man's hand, for the last time.
2
5
I announce natural persons to arise;I announce justice triumphant;
382
I announce the justification of candor, and the justification of pride.
6
I announce that the identity of These States is a single identity only;I announce the Union more and more compact, indissoluble;
I announce splendors and majesties to make all the previous politics of the earth insignificant.
7
I announce adhesiveness—I say it shall be limitless, unloosen'd;I say you shall yet find the friend you were looking for.
8
I announce a man or woman coming—perhaps you are the one, (So long!)I announce the great individual, fluid as Nature, chaste, affectionate, compassionate, fully armed.
I announce a life that shall be copious, vehement, spiritual, bold;
I announce an end that shall lightly and joyfully meet its translation;
I announce myriads of youths, beautiful, gigantic, sweet-blooded;
I announce a race of splendid and savage old men.
I announce an end that shall lightly and joyfully meet its translation;
I announce myriads of youths, beautiful, gigantic, sweet-blooded;
I announce a race of splendid and savage old men.
3
10
O thicker and faster! (So long!)O crowding too close upon me;
I foresee too much—it means more than I thought;
It appears to me I am dying.
11
Hasten throat, and sound your last!Salute me—salute the days once more. Peal the old cry once more.
12
Screaming electric, the atmosphere using,At random glancing, each as I notice absorbing,
383
Curious envelop'd messages delivering,
Sparkles hot, seed ethereal, down in the dirt dropping,
Myself unknowing, my commission obeying, to question it never daring,
To ages, and ages yet, the growth of the seed leaving,
To troops out of me, out of the army, the war arising—they the tasks I have set promulging,
To women certain whispers of myself bequeathing—their affection me more clearly explaining,
To young men my problems offering—no dallier I—I the muscle of their brains trying,
So I pass—a little time vocal, visible, contrary;
Afterward, a melodious echo, passionately bent for—(death making me really undying;)
The best of me then when no longer visible—for toward that I have been incessantly preparing.
13
What is there more, that I lag and pause, and crouch extended with unshut mouth?Is there a single final farewell?
4
14
My songs cease—I abandon them;From behind the screen where I hid, I advance personally, solely to you.
15
Camerado! This is no book;Who touches this, touches a man;
(Is it night? Are we here alone?)
It is I you hold, and who holds you;
I spring from the pages into your arms—decease calls me forth.
16
O how your fingers drowse me!Your breath falls around me like dew—your pulse lulls the tympans of my ears;
I feel immerged from head to foot;
Delicious—enough.
384
17
Enough, O deed impromptu and secret!Enough, O gliding present! Enough, O summ'd-up past!
5
18
Dear friend, whoever you are, take this kiss,I give it especially to you—Do not forget me;
I feel like one who has done work for the day, to retire awhile;
I receive now again of my many translations—from my avataras ascending—while others doubtless await me;
An unknown sphere, more real than I dream'd, more direct, darts awakening rays about me—So long!
Remember my words—I may again return,
I love you—I depart from materials;
I am as one disembodied, triumphant, dead.
| Leaves of grass (1872) | |