Sail out for Good, Eidolon Yacht!
Heave the anchor short! / Raise main-sail and jib--steer forth,
Long, Too Long America
❦
Long, too long America,
Traveling roads all even and peaceful you learn'd from joys and
prosperity only,
But now, ah now, to learn from crises of anguish, advancing,
grappling with direst fate and recoiling not,
And now to conceive and show to the world what your children
en-masse really are,
(For who except myself has yet conceiv'd what your children en-masse
really are?)
More poems by Walt Whitman
I am the of Earth, said the voice of the rain,
Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea, / Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form'd, altogether changed, and
As I Ponder'd in Silence
As I ponder'd in silence, / Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long,
One's-Self I Sing
One's-self I sing, a simple separate person, / Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse.