The Patriotic Poems of Walt Whitman Part 15

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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, America isolated yet embodying all, what is it finally except myself?

These States, what are they except myself?

I know now why the earth is gross, tantalizing, wicked, it is for my sake, I take you specially to be mine, you terrible, rude forms.

(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 crime your work goes on, and must yet go on.)

19

Thus by blue Ontario's sh.o.r.e, While the winds fann'd me and the waves came trooping toward me, I thrill'd with the power's pulsations, and the charm of my theme was upon me, Till the tissues that held me parted their ties upon me.

And I saw the free souls of poets, The loftiest bards of past ages strode before me, Strange large men, long unwaked, undisclosed, were disclosed to me.

20

O my rapt verse, my call, mock me not!

Not for the bards of the past, not to invoke them have I launch'd you forth, Not to call even those lofty bards here by Ontario's sh.o.r.es, Have I sung so capricious and loud my savage song.

Bards for my own land only I invoke (For the war, the war is over, the field is clear'd), Till they strike up marches henceforth triumphant and onward, To cheer O Mother your boundless expectant soul.

Bards of the great Idea! bards of the peaceful inventions! (for the war, the war is over!) Yet bards of latent armies, a million soldiers waiting ever-ready, Bards with songs as from burning coals or the lightning's fork'd stripes!

Ample Ohio's, Kanada's bards--bards of California! inland bards--bards of the war!

You by my charm I invoke.

EPILOGUE

RISE O DAYS FROM YOUR FATHOMLESS DEEPS

RISE O DAYS FROM YOUR FATHOMLESS DEEPS

1

Rise O days from your fathomless deeps, till you loftier, fiercer sweep, Long for my soul hungering gymnastic I devour'd what the earth gave me, Long I roam'd the woods of the north, long I watch'd Niagara pouring, I travel'd the prairies over and slept on their breast, I cross'd the Nevadas, I cross'd the plateaus I ascended the towering rocks along the Pacific, I sail'd out to sea, I sail'd through the storm, I was refresh'd by the storm I watch'd with joy the threatening maws of the waves, I mark'd the white combs where they career'd so high, curling over.

I heard the wind piping; I saw the black clouds, Saw from below what arose and mounted (O superb! O wild as my heart, and powerful!), Heard the continuous thunder as it bellow'd after the lightning, Noted the slender and jagged threads of lightning as sudden and fast amid the din they chased each other across the sky; These, and such as these, I, elate, saw--saw with wonder, yet pensive and masterful, All the menacing might of the globe uprisen around me, Yet there with my soul I fed, I fed content, supercilious.

2

'Twas well, O soul--'twas a good preparation you gave me, Now we advance our latent and ampler hunger to fill, Now we go forth to receive what the earth and the sea never gave us, Not through the mighty woods we go, but through the mightier cities, Something for us is pouring now more than Niagara pouring, Torrents of men (sources and rills of the Northwest are you indeed inexhaustible?), What, to pavements and homesteads here, what were those storms of the mountains and sea?

What, to pa.s.sions I witness around me to-day? was the sea risen?

Was the wind piping the pipe of death under the black clouds?

Lo! from deeps more unfathomable, something more deadly and savage, Manhattan rising, advancing with menacing front--Cincinnati, Chicago, unchain'd; What was that swell I saw on the ocean? behold what comes here, How it climbs with daring feet and hands--how it dashes!

How the true thunder bellows after the lightning--how bright the flashes of lightning!

How Democracy with desperate vengeful port strides on, shown through the dark by those flashes of lightning!

(Yet a mournful wail and low sob I fancied I heard through the dark, In a lull of the deafening confusion.)

3

Thunder on! stride on, Democracy! strike with vengeful stroke!

And do you rise higher than ever yet O days, O cities!

Crash heavier, heavier yet O storms! you have done me good, My soul prepared in the mountains absorbs your immortal strong nutriment, Long had I walk'd my cities, my country roads through farms, only half satisfied, One doubt nauseous undulating like a snake, crawl'd on the ground before me, Continually preceding my steps, turning upon me oft, ironically hissing low; The cities I loved so well I abandon'd and left, I sped to the certainties suitable to me, Hungering, hungering, hungering, for primal energies and Nature's dauntlessness, I refresh'd myself with it only, I could relish it only, I waited the bursting forth of the pent fire--on the water and air I waited long; But now I no longer wait, I am fully satisfied, I am glutted, I have witness'd the true lightning, I have witness'd my cities electric, I have lived to behold man burst forth and warlike America rise, Hence I will seek no more the food of the northern solitary wilds, No more the mountains roam or sail the stormy sea.

THE END

The Patriotic Poems of Walt Whitman Part 15

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