I will run a furrow with my plough—I will press my spade through the sod,
and turn it up underneath;
I am sure I shall expose some of the foul meat.

Go, dear friend! if need be, give up all else, and commence to-day to inure
yourself to pluck, reality, self-esteem, definiteness,
Rest not, till you rivet and publish yourself of your own personality.

I hear the wheeze of the slave-coffle, as the slaves march on—as the husky
gangs pass on by twos and threes, fastened together with wrist-
chains and ankle-chains;

I see where the Mississippi flows—I see where the Columbia flows;
I see the Great River, and the Falls of Niagara;
I see the Amazon and the Paraguay;
I see the four great rivers of China, the Amour, the Yellow River, the
Yiang-tse, and the Pearl;
I see where the Seine flows, and where the Loire, the Rhone, and the
Guadalquivir flow;

I see the Turk smoking opium in Aleppo;
I see the picturesque crowds at the fairs of Khiva, and those of Herat;
I see Teheran—I see Muscat and Medina, and the intervening sands—I see
the caravans toiling onward;
I see Egypt and the Egyptians—I see the pyramids and obelisks;

O brown halo in the sky, near the moon, drooping upon the sea!
O troubled reflection in the sea!
O throat! O throbbing heart!
O all!—and I singing uselessly, uselessly all the night.!

Who goes for men and women showing Poverty richer than wealth?
Expression of speech! in what is written or said, forget not that Silence
is also expressive;

With loaded arms I come, pouring for you,
For you and the coffins all of you, O Death.

O western orb, sailing the heaven!
Now I know what you must have meant, as a month since we walked,
As we walked up and down in the dark blue so mystic,

Of the terrible doubt of appearances,
Of the uncertainty after all—that we may be deluded,
That maybe reliance and hope are but speculations after all,

Passionately seen and yearned for by one poor little child,
While others remain busy, or smartly talking, for ever teaching thrift,

To be leaned, and to lean on.
Strong shapes, and attributes of strong shapes—masculine trades, sights
and sounds;
Long varied train of an emblem, dabs of music;
Fingers of the organist skipping staccato over the keys of the great organ.

Relentless, I forgive no man—whoever sins dies—I will have that man's
Therefore let none expect mercy—Have the seasons, gravitation, the
appointed days, mercy?—No more have I;
But as the seasons, and gravitation—and as all the appointed days, that
forgive not,
I dispense from this side judgments inexorable, without the least remorse.

The pens of live pork, the killing-hammer, the hog-hook, the scalder's tub,
gutting, the cutter's cleaver, the packer's maul, and the plenteous
winter-work of pork-packing,
Flour-works, grinding of wheat, rye, maize, rice—the barrels and the half
and quarter barrels, the loaded barges, the high piles on wharves
and levees,
The men, and the work of the men, on railroads, coasters, fish-boats,

Come closer to me;
Push close, my lovers, and take the best I possess;
Yield closer and closer, and give me the best you possess.
This is unfinished business with me—How is it with you?
(I was chilled with the cold types, cylinder, wet paper between us.)
Male and Female! I pass so poorly with paper and types, I must pass with the contact of bodies and souls.

For I guess there is latent music yet in France—floods of it.
O I hear already the bustle of instruments—they will soon be drowning all
that would interrupt them;

the raftsman, the pioneer,
Lumbermen in their winter camp, daybreak in the woods, stripes of snow on
the limbs of trees, the occasional snapping,
The glad clear sound of one's own voice, the merry song, the natural life
of the woods, the strong day's work,

As the ranks returning, all worn and sweaty—as the men file by where I
As the faces, the masks appear—as I glance at the faces, studying the
As I glance upward out of this page, studying you, dear friend, whoever you

O to hear you call the sailors and the soldiers! flag like a beautiful
O to hear the tramp, tramp, of a million answering men! O the ships they
arm with joy!
O to see you leap and beckon from the tall masts of ships!
O to see you peering down on the sailors on the decks!


O powerful, western, fallen star!
O shades of night! O moody, tearful night!
O great star disappeared! O the black murk that hides the star!
O cruel hands that hold me powerless! O helpless soul of me!
O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul!

Sadly sinking and fainting, as warning and warning, and yet again bursting
with joy.
Covering the earth, and filling the spread of the heaven,
As that powerful psalm in the night, I heard from recesses.

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