Drum Taps | Page 9

And the black ships
fighting on the sea envelop'd in smoke, And the icy cool of the far, far north, with
rustling cedars and pines, And the whirr of drums and the sound of soldiers marching,
and the hot sun shining south, And the beach-waves combing over the beach on my
Eastern shore, and my Western shore the same, And all between those shores, and my
ever running Mississippi with bends and chutes, And my Illinois fields, and my Kansas
fields, and my fields of Missouri, The Continent, devoting the whole identity without
reserving an atom, Pour in! whelm that which asks, which sings, with all and the yield of
all, Fusing and holding, claiming, devouring the whole, No more with tender lip, nor
musical labial sound, But out of the night emerging for good, our voice persuasive no
more, Croaking like crows here in the wind.
Poet. My limbs, my veins dilate, my theme is clear at last, Banner so broad advancing out
of the night, I sing you haughty and resolute, I burst through where I waited long, too
long, deafen'd and blinded, My hearing and tongue are come to me, (a little child taught
me,) I hear from above O pennant of war your ironical call and demand, Insensate!
insensate! (yet I at any rate chant you,) O banner! Not houses of peace indeed are you,
nor any nor all their prosperity, (if need be, you shall again have every one of those
houses to destroy them, You thought not to destroy those valuable houses, standing fast,
full of comfort, built with money, May they stand fast, then? not an hour except you
above them and all stand fast;) O banner, not money so precious are you, not farm
produce you, nor the material good nutriment, Nor excellent stores, nor landed on
wharves from the ships, Not the superb ships with sail-power or steam-power, fetching
and carrying cargoes, Nor machinery, vehicles, trade, nor revenues--but you as
henceforth I see you, Running up out of the night, bringing your cluster of stars,
(ever-enlarging stars,) Divider of daybreak you, cutting the air, touch'd by the sun,
measuring the sky, (Passionately seen and yearn'd for by one poor little child, While
others remain busy or smartly talking, forever teaching thrift, thrift;) O you up there! O
pennant! where you undulate like a snake hissing so curious, Out of reach, an idea only,
yet furiously fought for, risking bloody death, loved by me, So loved--O you banner
leading the day with stars brought from the night! Valueless, object of eyes, over all and
demanding all--(absolute owner of all)--O banner and pennant! I too leave the rest--great
as it is, it is nothing--houses, machines are nothing--I see them not, I see but you, O
warlike pennant! O banner so broad, with stripes, I sing you only, Flapping up there in
the wind.

RISE O DAYS FROM YOUR FATHOMLESS DEEPS.
1
Rise O days from your fathomless deeps, till you loftier, fiercer sweep, Long for my soul

hungering gymnastic I devour'd what the earth gave me, Long I roam'd the woods of the
north, long I watch'd Niagara pouring, I travel'd the prairies over and slept on their breast,
I cross'd the Nevadas, I cross'd the plateaus, I ascended the towering rocks along the
Pacific, I sail'd out to sea, I sail'd through the storm, I was refresh'd by the storm, I
watch'd with joy the threatening maws of the waves, I mark'd the white combs where
they career'd so high, curling over, I heard the wind piping, I saw the black clouds, Saw
from below what arose and mounted (O superb! O wild as my heart, and powerful!)
Heard the continuous thunder as it bellow'd after the lightning, Noted the slender and
jagged threads of lightning as sudden and fast amid the din they chased each other across
the sky; These, and such as these, I, elate, saw--saw with wonder, yet pensive and
masterful, All the menacing might of the globe uprisen around me, Yet there with my
soul I fed, I fed content, supercilious.
2
'Twas well, O soul--'twas a good preparation you gave me, Now we advance our latent
and ampler hunger to fill, Now we go forth to receive what the earth and the sea never
gave us, Not through the mighty woods we go, but through the mightier cities, Something
for us is pouring now more than Niagara pouring, Torrents of men, (sources and rills of
the Northwest are you indeed inexhaustible?) What, to pavements and homesteads here,
what were those storms of the mountains and sea? What, to passions I witness around me
to-day? was the sea risen? Was the wind piping the pipe of death under the black clouds?
Lo! from deeps more unfathomable, something more