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A poem by Walt Whitman |
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So Long |
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Title: So Long Author: Walt Whitman [More Titles by Whitman] 1. To conclude--I announce what comes after me; I announce mightier offspring, orators, days, and then depart,
I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with reference to consummations.
When there are plentiful athletic bards, inland and sea-board, When through these States walk a hundred millions of superb persons, When the rest part away for superb persons, and contribute to them, When breeds of the most perfect mothers denote America, Then to me my due fruition.
I have offered my style to every one--I have journeyed with confident step. While my pleasure is yet at the full, I whisper, _So long_! And take the young woman's hand, and the young man's hand for the last time.
I announce natural persons to arise, I announce justice triumphant, I announce uncompromising liberty and equality, I announce the justification of candour, and the justification of pride. I announce that the identity of these States is a single identity only, I announce the Union, out of all its struggles and wars, more and more compact, I announce splendours and majesties to make all the previous politics of the earth insignificant.
I announce the great individual, fluid as Nature, chaste, affectionate, compassionate, fully armed. I announce a life that shall be copious, vehement, spiritual, bold, And I announce an old age that shall lightly and joyfully meet its translation.
O thicker and faster! (_So long_!) O crowding too close upon me; I foresee too much--it means more than I thought, It appears to me I am dying.
Salute me--salute the days once more. Peal the old cry once more.
At random glancing, each as I notice absorbing, Swiftly on, but a little while alighting, Curious enveloped messages delivering, Sparkles hot, seed ethereal, down in the dirt dropping, Myself unknowing, my commission obeying, to question it never daring, To ages, and ages yet, the growth of the seed leaving, To troops out of me rising--they the tasks I have set promulging, To women certain whispers of myself bequeathing--their affection me more clearly explaining, To young men my problems offering--no dallier I--I the muscle of their brains trying, So I pass--a little time vocal, visible, contrary, Afterward, a melodious echo, passionately bent for--death making me really undying,-- The best of me then when no longer visible--for toward that I have been incessantly preparing.
Is there a single final farewell?
My songs cease--I abandon them, From behind the screen where I hid, I advance personally, solely to you.
Who touches this touches a man. (Is it night? Are we here alone?) It is I you hold, and who holds you, I spring from the pages into your arms--decease calls me forth.
Your breath falls around me like dew--your pulse lulls the tympans of my ears, I feel immerged from head to foot, Delicious--enough.
Enough, O gliding present! Enough, O summed-up past!
Dear friend, whoever you are, here, take this kiss, I give it especially to you--Do not forget me,
The unknown sphere, more real than I dreamed, more direct, awakening rays about me--_So long_! Remember my words--I love you--I depart from materials, I am as one disembodied, triumphant, dead. [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |