Debris

He is wisest who has the most caution,He only wins who goes far enough.

Any thing is as good as established, when that isestablished that will produce it and continue it.

What General has a good army in himself, has agood army;He happy in himself, or she happy in herself, ishappy,But I tell you you cannot be happy by others, anymore than you can beget or conceive a child byothers.

Have you learned lessons only of those who admiredyou, and were tender with you, and stood asidefor you?Have you not learned the great lessons of those whorejected you, and braced themselves against you?or who treated you with contempt, or disputedthe passage with you?Have you had no practice to receive opponents whenthey come?

Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me, day andnight,The sad voice of Death—the call of my nearestlover, putting forth, alarmed, uncertain,This sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me,Come tell me where I am, speeding—tell me mydestination.

I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you,I approach, hear, behold—the sad mouth, the lookout of the eyes, your mute inquiry.Whither I go from the bed I now recline on, cometell me;Old age, alarmed, uncertain—A young woman'svoice appealing to me, for comfort,A young man's voice. Shall I not escape?

A thousand perfect men and women appear.Around each gathers a cluster of friends, and gaychildren and youths, with offerings.

A mask—a perpetual natural disguiser of herself,Concealing her face, concealing her form,Changes and transformations every hour, every moment.Falling upon her even when she sleeps.

One sweeps by, attended by an immense train,All emblematic of peace—not a soldier or menialamong them.

One sweeps by, old, with black eyes, and profusewhite hair,He has the simple magnificence of health andstrength,His face strikes as with flashes of lightning whoeverit turns toward.

Three old men slowly pass, followed by three others,and they by three others,They are beautiful—the one in the middle of eachgroup holds his companions by the hand,As they walk, they give out perfume wherever theywalk.

Women sit, or move to and fro—some old, someyoung,The young are beautiful—but the old are morebeautiful than the young.

What weeping face is that looking from the window?Why does it stream those sorrowful tears?Is it for some burial place, vast and dry?Is it to wet the soil of graves?

I will take an egg out of the robin's nest in theorchard,I will take a branch of gooseberries from the old bushin the garden, and go and preach to the world;You shall see I will not meet a single heretic orscorner,You shall see how I stump clergymen, and confoundthem,You shall see me showing a scarlet tomato, and awhite pebble from the beach.

Behavior—fresh, native, copious, each one for himselfor herself,Nature and the Soul expressed—America and freedomexpressed—In it the finest art,In it pride, cleanliness, sympathy, to have theirchance,In it physique, intellect, faith—in it just as much asto manage an army or a city, or to write a book—perhaps more,The youth, the laboring person, the poor person,rivalling all the rest—perhaps outdoing therest,The effects of the universe no greater than its;For there is nothing in the whole universe that canbe more effective than a man's or woman's dailybehavior can be,In any position, in any one of These States.

Not the pilot has charged himself to bring his shipinto port, though beaten back, and many timesbaffled,Not the path-finder, penetrating inland, weary andlong,By deserts parched, snows chilled, rivers wet,perseveres till he reaches his destination,More than I have charged myself, heeded orunheeded, to compose a free march for TheseStates,To be exhilarating music to them, years, centurieshence.

I thought I was not alone, walking here by the shore,But the one I thought was with me, as now I walk bythe shore,As I lean and look through the glimmering light—that one has utterly disappeared,And those appear that perplex me.