By Walt Whitman

Come, said my soul, Such verses for my Body let us write, (for

we are one,) That should I after return,

Or, long, long hence, in other spheres, There to some group of mates the chants resuming,

(Tallying Earth's soil, trees, winds, tumultuous waves,)

Ever with pleas'd smile I may keep on, Ever and ever yet the verses owning--as, first,

I here and now Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my

name,

Walt Whitman

BOOK I. INSCRIPTIONS

One's-Self I Sing

One's-self I sing, a simple separate person, Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse.

Of physiology from top to toe I sing, Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy

for the Muse, I say the Form complete is worthier far,

The Female equally with the Male I sing.

Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power, Cheerful, for freest action form'd under the

laws divine, The Modern Man I sing.

As I Ponder'd in Silence

As I ponder'd in silence, Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering

long, A Phantom arose before me with distrustful

aspect, Terrible in beauty, age, and power,

The genius of poets of old lands, As to me directing like flame its eyes,

With finger pointing to many immortal songs, And menacing voice, What singest thou? it

said, Know'st thou not there is but one theme for

ever-enduring bards? And that is the theme of War, the fortune

of battles, The making of perfect soldiers.

Be it so, then I answer'd, I too haughty Shade also sing war, and a longer

and greater one than any, Waged in my book with varying fortune, with

flight, advance and retreat, victory deferr'd and wavering,

(Yet methinks certain, or as good as certain, at the last,) the

field the world, For life and death, for the Body and for the

eternal Soul, Lo, I too am come, chanting the chant of battles,

I above all promote brave soldiers.

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.

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.

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.

To Thee Old Cause

To thee old cause! Thou peerless, passionate, good cause,

Thou stern, remorseless, sweet idea, Deathless throughout the ages, races, lands,

After a strange sad war, great war for thee, (I think all war through time was really fought,

and ever will be really fought, for thee,)

These chants for thee, the eternal march of thee.

(A war O soldiers not for itself alone, Far, far more stood silently waiting behind,

now to advance in this book.)

Thou orb of many orbs! Thou seething principle! thou well-kept, latent

germ! thou centre! Around the idea of thee the war revolving,

With all its angry and vehement play of causes, (With vast results to come for thrice a thousand

years,) These recitatives for thee,--my book and the

war are one, Merged in its spirit I and mine, as the contest

hinged on thee, As a wheel on its axis turns, this book unwitting

to itself, Around the idea of thee.

Eidolons

I met a seer, Passing the hues and objects of the world,

The fields of art and learning, pleasure, sense,

To glean eidolons.

Put in thy chants said he, No more the puzzling hour nor day, nor segments,

parts, put in, Put first before the rest as light for all

and entrance-song of all, That of eidolons.

Ever the dim beginning, Ever the growth, the rounding of the circle,

Ever the summit and the merge at last, (to surely start again,)

Eidolons! eidolons!

Ever the mutable, Ever materials, changing, crumbling, re-cohering,

Ever the ateliers, the factories divine, Issuing eidolons.

Lo, I or you, Or woman, man, or state, known or unknown,

We seeming solid wealth, strength, beauty build,

But really build eidolons.

The ostent evanescent, The substance of an artist's mood or savan's

studies long, Or warrior's, martyr's, hero's toils,

To fashion his eidolon.

Of every human life, (The units gather'd, posted, not a thought,

emotion, deed, left out,) The whole or large or small summ'd, added

up, In its eidolon.

The old, old urge, Based on the ancient pinnacles, lo, newer,

higher pinnacles, From science and the modern still impell'd,

The old, old urge, eidolons.

The present now and here, America's busy, teeming, intricate whirl,

Of aggregate and segregate for only thence releasing,

To-day's eidolons.

These with the past, Of vanish'd lands, of all the reigns of kings

across the sea, Old conquerors, old campaigns, old sailors'

voyages, Joining eidolons.

Densities, growth, facades, Strata of mountains, soils, rocks, giant trees,

Far-born, far-dying, living long, to leave, Eidolons everlasting.

Exalte, rapt, ecstatic, The visible but their womb of birth,

Of orbic tendencies to shape and shape and shape,

The mighty earth-eidolon.

All space, all time, (The stars, the terrible perturbations of

the suns, Swelling, collapsing, ending, serving their

longer, shorter use,) Fill'd with eidolons only.

The noiseless myriads, The infinite oceans where the rivers empty,

The separate countless free identities, like eyesight,

The true realities, eidolons.

Not this the world, Nor these the universes, they the universes,

Purport and end, ever the permanent life of life,

Eidolons, eidolons.

Beyond thy lectures learn'd professor, Beyond thy telescope or spectroscope observer

keen, beyond all mathematics, Beyond the doctor's surgery, anatomy, beyond

the chemist with his chemistry, The entities of entities, eidolons.

Unfix'd yet fix'd, Ever shall be, ever have been and are,

Sweeping the present to the infinite future, Eidolons, eidolons, eidolons.

The prophet and the bard, Shall yet maintain themselves, in higher stages

yet, Shall mediate to the Modern, to Democracy,

interpret yet to them, God and eidolons.

And thee my soul, Joys, ceaseless exercises, exaltations,

Thy yearning amply fed at last, prepared to meet,

Thy mates, eidolons.

Thy body permanent, The body lurking there within thy body,

The only purport of the form thou art, the real I myself,

An image, an eidolon.

Thy very songs not in thy songs, No special strains to sing, none for itself,

But from the whole resulting, rising at last and floating,

A round full-orb'd eidolon.

For Him I Sing

For him I sing, I raise the present on the past,

(As some perennial tree out of its roots, the present on the past,)

With time and space I him dilate and fuse the immortal laws,

To make himself by them the law unto himself.

When I Read the Book

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.)

Beginning My Studies

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.

Beginners

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.

To the States

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.

On Journeys Through the States

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.

To a Certain Cantatrice

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.

Me Imperturbe

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.

Savantism

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,