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Says by Walt Whitman
I say whatever tastes sweet to the most perfect person, that is
finally right.
I say nourish a great intellect, a great brain;
If I have said anything to the contrary, I hereby retract it.
I say man shall not hold property in man;
I say the least developed person on earth is just as important and
sacred to himself or herself, as the most developed person is
to himself or herself.
I say where liberty draws not the blood out of slavery, there slavery
draws the blood out of liberty,
I say the word of the good old cause in These States, and resound it
hence over the world.
I say the human shape or face is so great, it must never be made
ridiculous;
I say for ornaments nothing outre can be allowed,
And that anything is most beautiful without ornament,
And that exaggerations will be sternly revenged in your own
physiology, and in other persons' physiology also;
And I say that clean-shaped children can be jetted and conceived only
where natural forms prevail in public, and the human face and
form are never caricatured;
And I say that genius need never more be turned to romances,
(For facts properly told, how mean appear all romances.)
I say the word of lands fearing nothing--I will have no other land;
I say discuss all and expose all--I am for every topic openly;
I say there can be no salvation for These States without innovators--
without free tongues, and ears willing to hear the tongues;
And I announce as a glory of These States, that they respectfully
listen to propositions, reforms, fresh views and doctrines,
from successions of men and women,
Each age with its own growth.
I have said many times that materials and the Soul are great, and
that all depends on physique;
Now I reverse what I said, and affirm that all depends on the
ĉsthetic or intellectual,
And that criticism is great--and that refinement is greatest of all;
And I affirm now that the mind governs--and that all depends on the
mind.
With one man or woman--(no matter which one--I even pick out the
lowest,)
With him or her I now illustrate the whole law;
I say that every right, in politics or what-not, shall be eligible to
that one man or woman, on the same terms as any.
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Thou Orb Aloft Full-Dazzling by Walt Whitman
Thou orb aloft full-dazzling! thou hot October noon!
Flooding with sheeny light the gray beach sand,
The sibilant near sea with vistas far and foam,
And tawny streaks and shades and spreading blue;
O sun of noon rufulgent! my special word to thee.
Hear me illustrious!
Thy lover me, for always I have loved thee,
Even as basking babe, then happy boy alone by some wood edge, thy
touching-distant beams enough,
Or man matured, or young or old, as now to thee I launch my
invocation.
(Thou canst not with thy dumbness me deceive,
I know before the fitting man all Nature yields,
Though answering not in words, the skies, trees, hear his voice--and
thou O sun,
As for thy throes, thy perturbations, sudden breaks and shafts of
flame gigantic,
I understand them, I know those flames, those perturbations well.)
Thou that with fructifying heat and light,
O'er myriad farms, o'er lands and waters North and South,
O'er Mississippi's endless course, o'er Texas' grassy plains,
Kanada's woods,
O'er all the globe that turns its face to thee shining in space,
Thou that impartially infoldest all, not only continents, seas,
Thou that to grapes and weeds and little wild flowers givest so
liberally,
Shed, shed thyself on mine and me, with but a fleeting ray out of thy
million millions,
Strike through these chants.
Nor only launch thy subtle dazzle and thy strength for these,
Prepare the later afternoon of me myself--prepare my lengthening
shadows,
Prepare my starry nights.
= = = = = = = = = =
An Army Corps On The March by Walt Whitman
With its cloud of skirmishers in advance,
With now the sound of a single shot, snapping like a whip, and now an
irregular volley,
The swarming ranks press on and on, the dense brigades press on;
Glittering dimly, toiling under the sun--the dust-cover'd men,
In columns rise and fall to the undulations of the ground,
With artillery interspers'd--the wheels rumble, the horses sweat,
As the army corps advances.
= = = = = = = = = =
Are You The New Person, Drawn Toward Me? by Walt Whitman
Are you the new person drawn toward me?
To begin with, take warning--I am surely far different from what you
suppose;
Do you suppose you will find in me your ideal?
Do you think it so easy to have me become your lover?
Do you think the friendship of me would be unalloy'd satisfaction?
Do you think I am trusty and faithful?
Do you see no further than this façade--this smooth and tolerant
manner of me?
Do you suppose yourself advancing on real ground toward a real heroic
man?
Have you no thought, O dreamer, that it may be all maya, illusion?
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