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Literature/English Heritage:
Leaves of Grass
3-IN
CABIN’D SHIPS AT SEA
In cabin’d
ships at sea,
The
boundless blue on every side expanding,
With
whistling winds and music of the waves, the large imperious
waves,
Or some
lone bark buoy’d on the dense marine,
Where
joyous full of faith, spreading white sails,
She cleaves
the ether mid the sparkle and the foam of day, or under many
a star at night,
By sailors
young and old haply will I, a reminiscence of the land, be
read,
In full
rapport at last.
Here are
our thoughts, voyagers’ thoughts,
Here not
the land, firm land, alone appears, may then by them be
said,
The sky
o’erarches here, we feel the undulating deck beneath our
feet,
We feel the
long pulsation, ebb and flow of endless motion,
The tones
of unseen mystery, the vague and vast suggestions of the
briny world, the liquid-flowing syllables,
The
perfume, the faint creaking of the cordage, the melancholy
rhythm,
The
boundless vista and the horizon far and dim are all here,
And this is
ocean’s poem.
Then falter
not O book, fulfil your destiny,
You not a
reminiscence of the land alone,
You too as
a lone bark cleaving the ether, purpos’d I know not whither,
yet ever full of faith,
Consort to
every ship that sails, sail you!
Bear forth
to them folded my love, (dear mariners, for you I fold it
here in every leaf;)
Speed on my
book! spread your white sails my little bark athwart the
imperious waves,
Chant on,
sail on, bear o’er the boundless blue from me to every sea,
This song
for mariners and all their ships.
4-TO
FOREIGN LANDS
I heard
that you ask’d for something to prove this puzzle the New
World,
And to
define America, her athletic Democracy,
Therefore I
send you my poems that you behold in them what you wanted.
5-TO A
HISTORIAN
You who
celebrate bygones,
Who have
explored the outward, the surfaces of the races, the life
that has exhibited itself,
Who have
treated of man as the creature of politics, aggregates,
rulers and priests,
I, habitan
of the Alleghanies, treating of him as he is in himself in
his own rights,
Pressing
the pulse of the life that has seldom exhibited itself, (the
great pride of man in himself,)
Chanter of
Personality, outlining what is yet to be,
I project
the history of the future.
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