Walt Whitman - Leaves of Grass

Rhymes and rhymers pass away—poems distilled from other poems pass away,
The swarms of reflectors and the polite pass, and leave ashes,
Admirers, importers, obedient persons, make the soil of literature;
America justifies itself, give it time—no disguise can deceive it or conceal from it—it is impassive enough,
Only toward the likes of itself will it advance to meet them,
If its poets appear, it will advance to meet them, there is no fear of mistake,
The proof of a poet shall be sternly deferred till his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorbed it.

He masters whose spirit masters—he tastes sweetest who results sweetest,
The blood of the brawn beloved of time is unconstraint,
In the need of poems, philosophy, politics, manners, engineering, an appropriate native grand-opera, ship-craft, any craft, he or she is greatest who contributes the greatest original practical example.

Already a nonchalant breed silently fills the houses and streets,
People’s lips salute only doers, lovers, satisfiers, positive knowers;
There will shortly be no more priests—their work is done,
Death is without emergencies here, but life is perpetual emergencies here,
Are your body, days, manners, superb? after death you shall be superb,
Friendship, self-esteem, justice, health, clear the way with irresistible power.

Give me the pay I have served for!
Give me to speak beautiful words! take all the rest;
I have loved the earth, sun, animals—I have despised riches,
I have given alms to every one that asked, stood up for the stupid and crazy, devoted my income and labor to others,
I have hated tyrants, argued not concerning God, had patience and indulgence toward the people, taken off my hat to nothing known or unknown,
I have gone freely with powerful uneducated persons, and with the young, and with the mothers of families,
I have read these leaves to myself in the open air, I have tried them by trees, stars, rivers,
I have dismissed whatever insulted my own soul or defiled my body,
I have claimed nothing to myself which I have not carefully claimed for others on the same terms,
I have studied my land, its idioms and men,
I am willing to wait to be understood by the growth of the taste of myself,
I reject none, I permit all,
Whom I have staid with once I have found longing for me ever afterwards.

I swear I begin to see the meaning of these things!
It is not the earth, it is not America who is so great,
It is I who am great, or to be great—it is you, or any one,
It is to walk rapidly through civilizations, governments, theories, nature, poems, shows, to individuals.

Underneath all are individuals,
I swear nothing is good that ignores individuals!
The American compact is with individuals,
The only government is that which makes minute of individuals.

Underneath all is nativity,
I swear I will stand by my own nativity—pious or impious, so be it!
I swear I am charmed with nothing except nativity!
Men, women, cities, nations, are only beautiful from nativity.

Underneath all is the need of the expression of love for men and women,
I swear I have had enough of mean and impotent modes of expressing love for men and women,
After this day I take my own modes of expressing love for men and women.

I swear I will have each quality of my race in myself,
Talk as you like, he only suits These States whose manners favor the audacity and sublime turbulence of These States.

Underneath the lessons of things, spirits, nature, governments, ownerships, I swear I perceive other lessons,
Underneath all to me is myself—to you, yourself,
If all had not kernels for you and me, what were it to you and me?

O I see now that this America is only you and me,
Its power, weapons, testimony, are you and me,
Its roughs, beards, haughtiness, ruggedness, are you and me,
Its ample geography, the sierras, the prairies, Mississippi, Huron, Colorado, Boston, Toronto, Releigh, Nashville, Havana, are you and me,
Its settlements, wars, the organic compact, peace, Washington, the Federal Constitution, are you and me,
Its young men’s manners, speech, dress, friendships, are you and me,
Its crimes, lies, thefts, defections, slavery, are you and me,
Its Congress is you and me, the officers, capitols, armies, ships, are you and me,
Its endless gestations of new States are you and me,
Its inventions, science, schools, are you and me,
Its deserts, forests, clearings, log-houses, hunters, are you and me,
The perpetual arrivals of immigrants are you and me,
Natural and artificial are you and me,
Freedom, language, poems, employments, are you and me,
Failures, successes, births, deaths, are you and me,
Past, present, future, are only you and me.

I swear I dare not shirk any part of myself,
Not America, nor any part of America,
Not my body, not friendship, hospitality, procreation,
Not my soul, not the last explanation of prudence,
Not the similitude that interlocks me with all identities that exist, or ever have existed,
Not faith, sin, defiance, nor any disposition or duty of myself,
Not the promulgation of liberty, not to cheer up slaves and horrify despots,
Not to build for that which builds for mankind,
Not to balance ranks, complexions, creeds, and the sexes,
Not to justify science, not the march of equality,
Not to feed the arrogant blood of the brawn beloved of time.

I swear I am for those that have never been mastered!
For men and women whose tempers have never been mastered,
For those whom laws, theories, conventions, can never master.

I swear I am for those who walk abreast with America and with the earth!
Who inaugurate one to inaugurate all.

I swear I will not be outfaced by irrational things!
I will penetrate what it is in them that is sarcastic upon me!
I will make cities and civilizations defer to me!
I will confront these shows of the day and night!
I will know if I am to be less than they!
I will see if I am not as majestic as they!
I will see if I am not as subtle and real as they!
I will see if I am to be less generous than they!
I will see if I have no meaning, and the houses and ships have meaning!
I will see if the fishes and birds are to be enough for themselves, and I am not to be enough for myself!

I match my spirit against yours, you orbs, growths, mountains, brutes,
I will learn why the earth is gross, tantalizing, wicked,
I take you to be mine, you beautiful, terrible, rude forms.

Something startles me where I thought I was safest,
I withdraw from the still woods I loved,
I will not go now on the pastures to walk,
I will not strip my clothes from my body to meet my lover the sea,
I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other flesh, to renew me.

How can the ground not sicken of men?
How can you be alive, you growths of spring?
How can you furnish health, you blood of herbs, roots, orchards, grain?
Are they not continually putting distempered corpses in the earth?
Is not every continent worked over and over with sour dead?
Where have you disposed of those carcasses of the drunkards and gluttons of so many generations?
Where have you drawn off all the foul liquid and meat?
I do not see any of it upon you today—or perhaps I am deceived,
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.