By Blue Ontario’s Shore
9 I listened to the Phantom by Ontario's shore, I heard the voice arising demanding bards, By them all native and grand, by them alone can these States be fused into the compact organism of a Nation. To hold men together by paper and seal or by compulsion is no account, That only holds men together which aggregates all in a living principle, as the hold of the limbs of the body or the fibres of plants. Of all races and eras these States with veins full of poetical stuff most need poets, and are to have the Average, and use them the Average, Their Presidents shall not be their common referee so much as their poets shall. (Soul of love and tongue of fire! Eye to pierce the deepest deeps and sweep the world! Ah Mother, prolific and full in all besides, yet how long barren, barren?)
Posted on 15/03/2015, in literature, poetry and tagged 19th Century Poetry, American literature, American poets, Daily Whitman, free verse, Leaves of Grass, literature, poems, poetry, Transcendentalists, Walt Whitman. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.