ONE'S-SELF I SING
Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse.
Of physiology from top to toe I sing,
Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power,
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,
IN CABIN'D SHIPS AT SEA
The boundless blue on every side expanding,
With whistling winds and music of the waves, the large
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,
Then falter not O book, fulfil your destiny,
Speed on my book! spread your white sails my little bark
TO FOREIGN LANDS
And to define America, her athletic Democracy,
Therefore I send you my poems that you behold in them
what you wanted.
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