Nothing is ever really lost, or can be lost,
No birth, identity, form-no object the world,
Nor life, nor force, nor any visible thing;
Appearance must not foil, nor shifted sphere confuse thy brain.
Ample are time and space-ample the fields of Nature.
The body, sluggish, aged, cold-the embers left from earlier fires,
The light in the eye grown dim, shall duly flame again;
The sun now low in the west rises for mornings and for noons continual;
To frozen clods ever the spring's invisible law returns,
With grass and flowers and summer fruits and corn.
Walt Whitman
Come, I will make the continent indissoluble,
I will make the most splendid race the sun ever shone upon,
I will make divine magnetic lands,
With the love of comrades,
Whit the life-long love of comra...
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 s...
Poets to come! Orators, singers, musicians to come!
Not to-day is to justify me and answer what I am for,
but you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than before known,
Arouse! For yo...