Daily Whitman

Whitman Mission


  Of seeds dropping into the ground, of births,
  Of the steady concentration of America, inland, upward, to
      impregnable and swarming places,
  Of what Indiana, Kentucky, Arkansas, and the rest, are to be,
  Of what a few years will show there in Nebraska, Colorado, Nevada,
      and the rest,
  (Or afar, mounting the Northern Pacific to Sitka or Aliaska,)
  Of what the feuillage of America is the preparation for—and of what
      all sights, North, South, East and West, are,
  Of this Union welded in blood, of the solemn price paid, of the
      unnamed lost ever present in my mind;
  Of the temporary use of materials for identity's sake,
  Of the present, passing, departing—of the growth of completer men
      than any yet,
  Of all sloping down there where the fresh free giver the mother, the
      Mississippi flows,
  Of mighty inland cities yet unsurvey'd and unsuspected,
  Of the new and good names, of the modern developments, of
      inalienable homesteads,
  Of a free and original life there, of simple diet and clean and
      sweet blood,
  Of litheness, majestic faces, clear eyes, and perfect physique there,
  Of immense spiritual results future years far West, each side of the
  Of these songs, well understood there, (being made for that area,)
  Of the native scorn of grossness and gain there,
  (O it lurks in me night and day—what is gain after all to savageness
      and freedom?)



Posted on 18/08/2015, in literature, poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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