WALT WHITMAN Ultimate Collection: 500+ Works in Poetry & Prose. Walt Whitman

WALT WHITMAN Ultimate Collection: 500+ Works in Poetry & Prose - Walt Whitman


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      When I read the book, the biography famous,

       And is this then (said I) what the author calls a man’s life?

       And so will some one when I am dead and gone write my life?

       (As if any man really knew aught of my life,

       Why even I myself I often think know little or nothing of my real life,

       Only a few hints, a few diffused faint clews and indirections

       I seek for my own use to trace out here.)

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      Beginning my studies the first step pleas’d me so much,

       The mere fact consciousness, these forms, the power of motion,

       The least insect or animal, the senses, eyesight, love,

       The first step I say awed me and pleas’d me so much,

       I have hardly gone and hardly wish’d to go any farther,

       But stop and loiter all the time to sing it in ecstatic songs.

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      How they are provided for upon the earth, (appearing at intervals,)

       How dear and dreadful they are to the earth,

       How they inure to themselves as much as to any — what a paradox

       appears their age,

       How people respond to them, yet know them not,

       How there is something relentless in their fate all times,

       How all times mischoose the objects of their adulation and reward,

       And how the same inexorable price must still be paid for the same

       great purchase.

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      To the States or any one of them, or any city of the States, Resist

       much, obey little,

       Once unquestioning obedience, once fully enslaved,

       Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city of this earth, ever

       afterward resumes its liberty.

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      On journeys through the States we start,

       (Ay through the world, urged by these songs,

       Sailing henceforth to every land, to every sea,)

       We willing learners of all, teachers of all, and lovers of all.

      We have watch’d the seasons dispensing themselves and passing on,

       And have said, Why should not a man or woman do as much as the

       seasons, and effuse as much?

      We dwell a while in every city and town,

       We pass through Kanada, the North-east, the vast valley of the

       Mississippi, and the Southern States,

       We confer on equal terms with each of the States,

       We make trial of ourselves and invite men and women to hear,

       We say to ourselves, Remember, fear not, be candid, promulge the

       body and the soul,

       Dwell a while and pass on, be copious, temperate, chaste, magnetic,

       And what you effuse may then return as the seasons return,

       And may be just as much as the seasons.

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      Here, take this gift,

       I was reserving it for some hero, speaker, or general,

       One who should serve the good old cause, the great idea, the

       progress and freedom of the race,

       Some brave confronter of despots, some daring rebel;

       But I see that what I was reserving belongs to you just as much as to any.

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      Me imperturbe, standing at ease in Nature,

       Master of all or mistress of all, aplomb in the midst of irrational things,

       Imbued as they, passive, receptive, silent as they,

       Finding my occupation, poverty, notoriety, foibles, crimes, less

       important than I thought,

       Me toward the Mexican sea, or in the Mannahatta or the Tennessee,

       or far north or inland,

       A river man, or a man of the woods or of any farm-life of these

       States or of the coast, or the lakes or Kanada,

       Me wherever my life is lived, O to be self-balanced for contingencies,

       To confront night, storms, hunger, ridicule, accidents, rebuffs, as

       the trees and animals do.

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      Thither as I look I see each result and glory retracing itself and

       nestling close, always obligated,

       Thither hours, months, years — thither trades, compacts,

       establishments, even the most minute,

       Thither every-day life, speech, utensils, politics, persons, estates;

       Thither we also, I with my leaves and songs, trustful, admirant,

       As a father to his father going takes his children along with him.

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      Lo, the unbounded sea,

       On its breast a ship starting, spreading all sails, carrying even

       her moonsails.

       The pennant is flying aloft as she speeds she speeds so stately —

       below emulous waves press forward,

       They surround the ship with shining curving motions and foam.

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      I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,

       Those


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