Walt Whitman's Tomb (Camden, New Jersey)

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  James M (guest)

  "Sail, sail thy best, ship of Democracy,Of value is thy freight, 'tis not the Present only, the past is also stored in thee, Thou holdest not the venture of thyself alone, not of the Western continent alone, Earth's résumé entire floats on thy keel O [ sacred ] ship, is steadied by thy spars. With thee TIME voyages in trust, the antecedent nations sink or swim with THEE, With all their ancient struggles, martyrs, heroes, epics, wars, THOU bear'st the other continents, . . . Steer then with good strong hand and wary EYE O helmsman, THOU carriest great companions, Venerable priestly Asia sails this day with THEE, And royal feudal Europe sails with THEE. Beautiful world of new superber birth that rises to my eyes, Like a limitless golden cloud filling the western [ Hesperian ] sky, . . . How can I pierce the impenetrable blank of the future? I feel thy ominous greatness evil as well as good, I watch THEE advancing, absorbing the present, transcending the past, I see thy light lighting, and thy shadow shadowing, as if the entire globe, How do I undertake to define THEE, hardly to comprehend THEE? . . . Haply God's riddle for it, so vague and yet so certain, The soul for it, and all the visible Universe for it, And heaven at last for it! . . . Be not disheartened, keep on, there are DIVINE things, well enveloped, I swear it! Divine things more beautiful than words can tell. SAIL ON O SHIP OF DEMOCRACY! Be not disheartened. Compassion shall solve the problems of FREEDOM yet. Those who love one another shall yet be victorious, Sons of the Mother of ALL, you shall yet be victorious, you shall yet laugh to scorn the attacks of the remainder of the Earth. Long, too long, America, Travelling 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 . S H O W . T H E . W O R L D . what your children en-masse really are!" The ravening clouds shall not long be victorious, They shall not long possess the sky, they devour the stars only in apparition, Jupiter shall emerge, be patient, watch again another night, the Pleiades shall emerge, They are immortal, all those stars both silvery and golden shall shine out again! . . . they endure! Then THOU dearest child mournest not alone . . . Considerest THOU one amongst the stars, child of the Universe, no less than the trees and suns!* Whoever you are, I fear you are walking the walk of dreams, I fear these supposed realities are to melt under your hands and feet, Even now your features, joys, speech, house, trade, manners, troubles, follies, costume, crimes, dissipate away from you, Your true soul and body appear before me now, They stand forth out of affairs, out of commerce, shops, work, farms, clothes, the house, buying, selling, eating, drinking, suffering, dying. Whoever you are, NOW I PLACE MY HAND UPON YOU, that YOU shall be my poem. ... I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love. If you want me again, look for me under your boot souls." Leaves of Grass - Walt Whitman - American Messiah

  17 years ago | reply | hide comment