The Walt Whitman MEGAPACK

by Walt Whitman

I see the blood wash’d entirely away from the axe,

  Both blade and helve are clean,

  They spirt no more the blood of European nobles, they clasp no more the necks of queens.

  I see the headsman withdraw and become useless,

  I see the scaffold untrodden and mouldy, I see no longer any axe upon it,

  I see the mighty and friendly emblem of the power of my own race, the newest, largest race.

  9

  (America! I do not vaunt my love for you,

  I have what I have.)

  The axe leaps!

  The solid forest gives fluid utterances,

  They tumble forth, they rise and form,

  Hut, tent, landing, survey,

  Flail, plough, pick, crowbar, spade,

  Shingle, rail, prop, wainscot, lamb, lath, panel, gable,

  Citadel, ceiling, saloon, academy, organ, exhibition-house, library,

  Cornice, trellis, pilaster, balcony, window, turret, porch,

  Hoe, rake, pitchfork, pencil, wagon, staff, saw, jack-plane, mallet, wedge, rounce,

  Chair, tub, hoop, table, wicket, vane, sash, floor,

  Work-box, chest, string’d instrument, boat, frame, and what not,

  Capitols of States, and capitol of the nation of States,

  Long stately rows in avenues, hospitals for orphans or for the poor or sick,

  Manhattan steamboats and clippers taking the measure of all seas.

  The shapes arise!

  Shapes of the using of axes anyhow, and the users and all that neighbors them,

  Cutters down of wood and haulers of it to the Penobscot or Kenebec,

  Dwellers in cabins among the Californian mountains or by the little lakes, or on the Columbia,

  Dwellers south on the banks of the Gila or Rio Grande, friendly gatherings, the characters and fun,

  Dwellers along the St. Lawrence, or north in Kanada, or down by the Yellowstone, dwellers on coasts and off coasts,

  Seal-fishers, whalers, arctic seamen breaking passages through the ice.

  The shapes arise!

  Shapes of factories, arsenals, foundries, markets,

  Shapes of the two-threaded tracks of railroads,

  Shapes of the sleepers of bridges, vast frameworks, girders, arches,

  Shapes of the fleets of barges, tows, lake and canal craft, river craft,

  Ship-yards and dry-docks along the Eastern and Western seas, and in many a bay and by-place,

  The live-oak kelsons, the pine planks, the spars, the hackmatack-roots for knees,

  The ships themselves on their ways, the tiers of scaffolds, the workmen busy outside and inside,

  The tools lying around, the great auger and little auger, the adze, bolt, line, square, gouge, and bead-plane.

  10

  The shapes arise!

  The shape measur’d, saw’d, jack’d, join’d, stain’d,

  The coffin-shape for the dead to lie within in his shroud,

  The shape got out in posts, in the bedstead posts, in the posts of the bride’s bed,

  The shape of the little trough, the shape of the rockers beneath, the shape of the babe’s cradle,

  The shape of the floor-planks, the floor-planks for dancers’ feet,

  The shape of the planks of the family home, the home of the friendly parents and children,

  The shape of the roof of the home of the happy young man and woman, the roof over the well-married young man and woman,

  The roof over the supper joyously cook’d by the chaste wife, and joyously eaten by the chaste husband, content after his day’s work.

  The shapes arise!

  The shape of the prisoner’s place in the court-room, and of him or her seated in the place,

  The shape of the liquor-bar lean’d against by the young rum-drinker and the old rum-drinker,

  The shape of the shamed and angry stairs trod by sneaking foot- steps,

  The shape of the sly settee, and the adulterous unwholesome couple,

  The shape of the gambling-board with its devilish winnings and losings,

  The shape of the step-ladder for the convicted and sentenced murderer, the murderer with haggard face and pinion’d arms,

  The sheriff at hand with his deputies, the silent and white-lipp’d crowd, the dangling of the rope.

  The shapes arise!

  Shapes of doors giving many exits and entrances,

  The door passing the dissever’d friend flush’d and in haste,

  The door that admits good news and bad news,

  The door whence the son left home confident and puff’d up,

  The door he enter’d again from a long and scandalous absence, diseas’d, broken down, without innocence, without means.

  11

  Her shape arises,

  She less guarded than ever, yet more guarded than ever,

  The gross and soil’d she moves among do not make her gross and soil’d,

  She knows the thoughts as she passes, nothing is conceal’d from her,

  She is none the less considerate or friendly therefor,

  She is the best belov’d, it is without exception, she has no reason to fear and she does not fear,

  Oaths, quarrels, hiccupp’d songs, smutty expressions, are idle to her as she passes,

  She is silent, she is possess’d of herself, they do not offend her,

  She receives them as the laws of Nature receive them, she is strong,

  She too is a law of Nature—there is no law stronger than she is.

  12

  The main shapes arise!

  Shapes of Democracy total, result of centuries,

  Shapes ever projecting other shapes,

  Shapes of turbulent manly cities,

  Shapes of the friends and home-givers of the whole earth,

  Shapes bracing the earth and braced with the whole earth.

  BOOK XIII

  Song of the Exposition

  1

  (Ah little recks the laborer,

  How near his work is holding him to God,

  The loving Laborer through space and time.)

  After all not to create only, or found only,

  But to bring perhaps from afar what is already founded,

  To give it our own identity, average, limitless, free,

  To fill the gross the torpid bulk with vital religious fire,

  Not to repel or destroy so much as accept, fuse, rehabilitate,

  To obey as well as command, to follow more than to lead,

  These also are the lessons of our New World;

  While how little the New after all, how much the Old, Old World!

  Long and long has the grass been growing,

  Long and long has the rain been falling,

  Long has the globe been rolling round.

  2

  Come Muse migrate from Greece and Ionia,

  Cross out please those immensely overpaid accounts,

  That matter of Troy and Achilles’ wrath, and AEneas’, Odysseus’ wanderings,

  Placard “Removed” and “To Let” on the rocks of your snowy Parnassus,

  Repeat at Jerusalem, place the notice high on jaffa’s gate and on Mount Moriah,

  The same on the walls of your German, French and Spanish castles, and Italian collections,

  For know a better, fresher, busier sphere, a wide, untried domain awaits, demands you.

  3

  Responsive to our summons,

  Or rather to her long-nurs’d inclination,

  Join’d with an irresistible, natural gravitation,

  She comes! I hear the rustling of her gown,

  I scent the odor of her breath’s delicious fragrance,

  I mark her step divine, her curious eyes a-turning, rolling,

  Upon this very scene.

  The dame of dames! can I believe then,

  Those ancient temples, sculptures classic, could none of them retain her?

  Nor shades of Virgil and Dante, nor myriad memories, poems, old asso
ciations, magnetize and hold on to her?

  But that she’s left them all—and here?

  Yes, if you will allow me to say so,

  I, my friends, if you do not, can plainly see her,

  The same undying soul of earth’s, activity’s, beauty’s, heroism’s expression,

  Out from her evolutions hither come, ended the strata of her former themes,

  Hidden and cover’d by to-day’s, foundation of to-day’s,

  Ended, deceas’d through time, her voice by Castaly’s fountain,

  Silent the broken-lipp’d Sphynx in Egypt, silent all those century- baffling tombs,

  Ended for aye the epics of Asia’s, Europe’s helmeted warriors, ended the primitive call of the muses,

  Calliope’s call forever closed, Clio, Melpomene, Thalia dead,

  Ended the stately rhythmus of Una and Oriana, ended the quest of the holy Graal,

  Jerusalem a handful of ashes blown by the wind, extinct,

  The Crusaders’ streams of shadowy midnight troops sped with the sunrise,

  Amadis, Tancred, utterly gone, Charlemagne, Roland, Oliver gone,

  Palmerin, ogre, departed, vanish’d the turrets that Usk from its waters reflected,

  Arthur vanish’d with all his knights, Merlin and Lancelot and Galahad, all gone, dissolv’d utterly like an exhalation;

  Pass’d! pass’d! for us, forever pass’d, that once so mighty world, now void, inanimate, phantom world,

  Embroider’d, dazzling, foreign world, with all its gorgeous legends, myths,

  Its kings and castles proud, its priests and warlike lords and courtly dames,

  Pass’d to its charnel vault, coffin’d with crown and armor on,

  Blazon’d with Shakspere’s purple page,

  And dirged by Tennyson’s sweet sad rhyme.

  I say I see, my friends, if you do not, the illustrious emigre, (having it is true in her day, although the same, changed, journey’d considerable,)

  Making directly for this rendezvous, vigorously clearing a path for herself, striding through the confusion,

  By thud of machinery and shrill steam-whistle undismay’d,

  Bluff’d not a bit by drain-pipe, gasometers, artificial fertilizers,

  Smiling and pleas’d with palpable intent to stay,

  She’s here, install’d amid the kitchen ware!

  4

  But hold—don’t I forget my manners?

  To introduce the stranger, (what else indeed do I live to chant for?) to thee Columbia;

  In liberty’s name welcome immortal! clasp hands,

  And ever henceforth sisters dear be both.

  Fear not O Muse! truly new ways and days receive, surround you,

  I candidly confess a queer, queer race, of novel fashion,

  And yet the same old human race, the same within, without,

  Faces and hearts the same, feelings the same, yearnings the same,

  The same old love, beauty and use the same.

  5

  We do not blame thee elder World, nor really separate ourselves from thee,

  (Would the son separate himself from the father?)

  Looking back on thee, seeing thee to thy duties, grandeurs, through past ages bending, building,

  We build to ours to-day.

  Mightier than Egypt’s tombs,

  Fairer than Grecia’s, Roma’s temples,

  Prouder than Milan’s statued, spired cathedral,

  More picturesque than Rhenish castle-keeps,

  We plan even now to raise, beyond them all,

  Thy great cathedral sacred industry, no tomb,

  A keep for life for practical invention.

  As in a waking vision,

  E’en while I chant I see it rise, I scan and prophesy outside and in,

  Its manifold ensemble.

  Around a palace, loftier, fairer, ampler than any yet,

  Earth’s modern wonder, history’s seven outstripping,

  High rising tier on tier with glass and iron facades,

  Gladdening the sun and sky, enhued in cheerfulest hues,

  Bronze, lilac, robin’s-egg, marine and crimson,

  Over whose golden roof shall flaunt, beneath thy banner Freedom,

  The banners of the States and flags of every land,

  A brood of lofty, fair, but lesser palaces shall cluster.

  Somewhere within their walls shall all that forwards perfect human life be started,

  Tried, taught, advanced, visibly exhibited.

  Not only all the world of works, trade, products,

  But all the workmen of the world here to be represented.

  Here shall you trace in flowing operation,

  In every state of practical, busy movement, the rills of civilization,

  Materials here under your eye shall change their shape as if by magic,

  The cotton shall be pick’d almost in the very field,

  Shall be dried, clean’d, ginn’d, baled, spun into thread and cloth before you,

  You shall see hands at work at all the old processes and all the new ones,

  You shall see the various grains and how flour is made and then bread baked by the bakers,

  You shall see the crude ores of California and Nevada passing on and on till they become bullion,

  You shall watch how the printer sets type, and learn what a composing-stick is,

  You shall mark in amazement the Hoe press whirling its cylinders, shedding the printed leaves steady and fast,

  The photograph, model, watch, pin, nail, shall be created before you.

  In large calm halls, a stately museum shall teach you the infinite lessons of minerals,

  In another, woods, plants, vegetation shall be illustrated—in another animals, animal life and development.

  One stately house shall be the music house,

  Others for other arts—learning, the sciences, shall all be here,

  None shall be slighted, none but shall here be honor’d, help’d, exampled.

  6

  (This, this and these, America, shall be your pyramids and obelisks,

  Your Alexandrian Pharos, gardens of Babylon,

  Your temple at Olympia.)

  The male and female many laboring not,

  Shall ever here confront the laboring many,

  With precious benefits to both, glory to all,

  To thee America, and thee eternal Muse.

  And here shall ye inhabit powerful Matrons!

  In your vast state vaster than all the old,

  Echoed through long, long centuries to come,

  To sound of different, prouder songs, with stronger themes,

  Practical, peaceful life, the people’s life, the People themselves,

  Lifted, illumin’d, bathed in peace—elate, secure in peace.

  7

  Away with themes of war! away with war itself!

  Hence from my shuddering sight to never more return that show of blacken’d, mutilated corpses!

  That hell unpent and raid of blood, fit for wild tigers or for lop-tongued wolves, not reasoning men,

  And in its stead speed industry’s campaigns,

  With thy undaunted armies, engineering,

  Thy pennants labor, loosen’d to the breeze,

  Thy bugles sounding loud and clear.

  Away with old romance!

  Away with novels, plots and plays of foreign courts,

  Away with love-verses sugar’d in rhyme, the intrigues, amours of idlers,

  Fitted for only banquets of the night where dancers to late music slide,

  The unhealthy pleasures, extravagant dissipations of the few,

  With perfumes, heat and wine, beneath the dazzling chandeliers.

  To you ye reverent sane sisters,

  I raise a voice for far superber themes for poets and for art,

  To exalt the present and the real,

  To teach the average man the glory of his daily walk and trade,

  To sing in songs how exerci
se and chemical life are never to be baffled,

  To manual work for each and all, to plough, hoe, dig,

  To plant and tend the tree, the berry, vegetables, flowers,

  For every man to see to it that he really do something, for every woman too;

  To use the hammer and the saw, (rip, or cross-cut,)

  To cultivate a turn for carpentering, plastering, painting,

  To work as tailor, tailoress, nurse, hostler, porter,

  To invent a little, something ingenious, to aid the washing, cooking, cleaning,

  And hold it no disgrace to take a hand at them themselves.

  I say I bring thee Muse to-day and here,

  All occupations, duties broad and close,

  Toil, healthy toil and sweat, endless, without cessation,

  The old, old practical burdens, interests, joys,

  The family, parentage, childhood, husband and wife,

  The house-comforts, the house itself and all its belongings,

  Food and its preservation, chemistry applied to it,

  Whatever forms the average, strong, complete, sweet-blooded man or woman, the perfect longeve personality,

  And helps its present life to health and happiness, and shapes its soul,

  For the eternal real life to come.

  With latest connections, works, the inter-transportation of the world,

  Steam-power, the great express lines, gas, petroleum,

  These triumphs of our time, the Atlantic’s delicate cable,

  The Pacific railroad, the Suez canal, the Mont Cenis and Gothard and Hoosac tunnels, the Brooklyn bridge,

  This earth all spann’d with iron rails, with lines of steamships threading in every sea,

  Our own rondure, the current globe I bring.

  8

  And thou America,

  Thy offspring towering e’er so high, yet higher Thee above all towering,

  With Victory on thy left, and at thy right hand Law;

  Thou Union holding all, fusing, absorbing, tolerating all,

  Thee, ever thee, I sing.

  Thou, also thou, a World,

  With all thy wide geographies, manifold, different, distant,

  Rounded by thee in one—one common orbic language,

  One common indivisible destiny for All.

  And by the spells which ye vouchsafe to those your ministers in earnest,

  I here personify and call my themes, to make them pass before ye.

  Behold, America! (and thou, ineffable guest and sister!)

  For thee come trooping up thy waters and thy lands;

  Behold! thy fields and farms, thy far-off woods and mountains,