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Literature · Poetry

Leaves of Grass 211Book 22 · Chapter 18

18

Literature · Poetry

Leaves of Grass 211

Book 22 · Chapter 18

WhitmanEnglish
I will confront these shows of the day and night, I will know if I am to be less than they, I will see if I am not as majestic as they, I will see if I am not as subtle and real as they, I will see if I am to be less generous than they, I will see if I have no meaning, while the houses and ships have meaning, I will see if the fishes and birds are to be enough for themselves, and I am not to be enough for myself.
I match my spirit against yours you orbs, growths, mountains, brutes, Copious as you are I absorb you all in myself, and become the master myself, America isolated yet embodying all, what is it finally except myself? These States, what are they except myself?
I know now why the earth is gross, tantalizing, wicked, it is for my sake, I take you specially to be mine, you terrible, rude forms.
(Mother, bend down, bend close to me your face, I know not what these plots and wars and deferments are for, I know not fruition’s success, but I know that through war and crime your work goes on, and must yet go on.)

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Leaves of Grass 210Leaves of Grass 212
Sources & credits: Whitman

Whitman — Leaves of Grass (Walt Whitman) (1855). Public Domain. Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass; public domain in the US; text from Project Gutenberg #1322. Source

Literature · Poetry

Leaves of Grass 212

WhitmanEnglish