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A Promise To California by Walt Whitman
A PROMISE to California, Also to the great Pastoral Plains, and for Oregon: Sojourning east a while longer, soon I travel toward you, to remain, to teach robust American love; For I know very well that I and robust love belong among you, inland, and along the Western Sea; For These States tend inland, and toward the Western Sea--and I will also.
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There was a Young Lady whose chin by Edward Lear
There was a Young Lady whose chin, Resembled the point of a pin: So she had it made sharp, And purchased a harp, And played several tunes with her chin.
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The Dong with a Luminous Nose by Edward Lear
When awful darkness and silence reign Over the great Gromboolian plain, Through the long, long wintry nights; -- When the angry breakers roar As they beat on the rocky shore; -- When Storm-clouds brood on the towering heights Of the Hills of the Chankly Bore: --
Then, through the vast and gloomy dark, There moves what seems a fiery spark, A lonely spark with silvery rays Piercing the coal-black night, -- A Meteor strange and bright: -- Hither and thither the vision strays, A single lurid light.
Slowly it wander, -- pauses, -- creeps, -- Anon it sparkles, -- flashes and leaps; And ever as onward it gleaming goes A light on the Bong-tree stems it throws. And those who watch at that midnight hour From Hall or Terrace, or lofty Tower, Cry, as the wild light passes along, -- 'The Dong! -- the Dong! 'The wandering Dong through the forest goes! 'The Dong! the Dong! 'The Dong with a luminous Nose!'
Long years ago The Dong was happy and gay, Till he fell in love with a Jumbly Girl Who came to those shores one day. For the Jumblies came in a sieve, they did, -- Landing at eve near the Zemmery Fidd Where the Oblong Oysters grow, And the rocks are smooth and gray. And all the woods and the valleys rang With the Chorus they daily and nightly sang, -- 'Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and the hands are blue And they went to sea in a sieve.
Happily, happily passed those days! While the cheerful Jumblies staid; They danced in circlets all night long, To the plaintive pipe of the lively Dong, In moonlight, shine, or shade. For day and night he was always there By the side of the Jumbly Girl so fair, With her sky-blue hands, and her sea-green hair. Till the morning came of that hateful day When the Jumblies sailed in their sieve away, And the Dong was left on the cruel shore Gazing -- gazing for evermore, -- Ever keeping his weary eyes on That pea-green sail on the far horizon, -- Singing the Jumbly Chorus still As he sate all day on the grassy hill, -- 'Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and the hands are blue And they went to sea in a sieve.
But when the sun was low in the West, The Dong arose and said; -- 'What little sense I once possessed Has quite gone out of my head!' -- And since that day he wanders still By lake and dorest, marsh and hills, Singing -- 'O somewhere, in valley or plain 'Might I find my Jumbly Girl again! 'For ever I'll seek by lake and shore 'Till I find my Jumbly Girl once more!'
Playing a pipe with silvery squeaks, Since then his Jumbly Girl he seeks, And because by night he could not see, He gathered the bark of the Twangum Tree On the flowery plain that grows. And he wove him a wondrous Nose, -- A Nose as strange as a Nose could be! Of vast proportions and painted red, And tied with cords to the back of his head. -- In a hollow rounded space it ended With a luminous Lamp within suspended, All fenced about With a bandage stout To prevent the wind from blowing it out; -- And with holes all round to send the light, In gleaming rays on the dismal night.
And now each night, and all night long, Over those plains still roams the Dong; And above the wail of the Chimp and Snipe You may hear the squeak of his plaintive pipe While ever he seeks, but seeks in vain To meet with his Jumbly Girl again; Lonely and wild -- all night he goes, -- The Dong with a luminous Nose! And all who watch at the midnight hour, From Hall or Terrace, or lofty Tower, Cry, as they trace the Meteor bright, Moving along through the dreary night, -- 'This is the hour when forth he goes, 'The Dong with a luminous Nose! 'Yonder -- over the plain he goes; 'He goes! 'He goes; 'The Dong with a luminous Nose!'
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The Centerarian's Story Part 3 by Walt Whitman
Twas a bold act then; The English war-ships had just arrived--the king had sent them from over the sea; We could watch down the lower bay where they lay at anchor, And the transports, swarming with soldiers.
A few days more, and they landed--and then the battle.
Twenty thousand were brought against us, A veteran force, furnish'd with good artillery.
I tell not now the whole of the battle; But one brigade, early in the forenoon, order'd forward to engage the red-coats; Of that brigade I tell, and how steadily it march'd, And how long and how well it stood, confronting death.
Who do you think that was, marching steadily, sternly confronting death? It was the brigade of the youngest men, two thousand strong, Rais'd in Virginia and Maryland, and many of them known personally to the General.
Jauntily forward they went with quick step toward Gowanus' waters; Till of a sudden, unlook'd for, by defiles through the woods, gain'd at night, The British advancing, wedging in from the east, fiercely playing their guns, That brigade of the youngest was cut off, and at the enemy's mercy.
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