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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535100" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Poems Of Joys</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O TO make the most jubilant poem!<br> Even to set off these, and merge with these, the carols of Death.<br> O full of music! full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!<br> Full of common employments! full of grain and trees.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O for the voices of animals! O for the swiftness and balance of<br> fishes!<br> O for the dropping of rain-drops in a poem!<br> O for the sunshine, and motion of waves in a poem.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O the joy of my spirit! it is uncaged! it darts like lightning!<br> It is not enough to have this globe, or a certain time--I will have<br> thousands of globes, and all time.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O the engineer's joys!   10<br> To go with a locomotive!<br> To hear the hiss of steam--the merry shriek--the steam-whistle--the<br> laughing locomotive!<br> To push with resistless way, and speed off in the distance.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O the gleesome saunter over fields and hill-sides!<br> The leaves and flowers of the commonest weeds--the moist fresh<br> stillness of the woods,<br> The exquisite smell of the earth at day-break, and all through the<br> forenoon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O the horseman's and horsewoman's joys!<br> The saddle--the gallop--the pressure upon the seat--the cool gurgling<br> by the ears and hair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O the fireman's joys!<br> I hear the alarm at dead of night,   20<br> I hear bells--shouts!--I pass the crowd--I run!<br> The sight of the flames maddens me with pleasure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O the joy of the strong-brawn'd fighter, towering in the arena, in<br> perfect condition, conscious of power, thirsting to meet his<br> opponent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O the joy of that vast elemental sympathy which only the human Soul<br> is capable of generating and emitting in steady and limitless<br> floods.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O the mother's joys!<br> The watching--the endurance--the precious love--the anguish--the<br> patiently yielded life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O the joy of increase, growth, recuperation;<br> The joy of soothing and pacifying--the joy of concord and harmony.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O to go back to the place where I was born!<br> To hear the birds sing once more!   30<br> To ramble about the house and barn, and over the fields, once more,<br> And through the orchard and along the old lanes once more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O male and female!<br> O the presence of women! (I swear there is nothing more exquisite to<br> me than the mere presence of women;)<br> O for the girl, my mate! O for the happiness with my mate!<br> O the young man as I pass! O I am sick after the friendship of him<br> who, I fear, is indifferent to me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O the streets of cities!<br> The flitting faces--the expressions, eyes, feet, costumes! O I cannot<br> tell how welcome they are to me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O to have been brought up on bays, lagoons, creeks, or along the<br> coast!<br> O to continue and be employ'd there all my life!  40<br> O the briny and damp smell--the shore--the salt weeds exposed at low<br> water,<br> The work of fishermen--the work of the eel-fisher and clam-fisher.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O it is I!<br> I come with my clam-rake and spade! I come with my eel-spear;<br> Is the tide out? I join the group of clam-diggers on the flats,<br> I laugh and work with them--I joke at my work, like a mettlesome<br> young man.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> In winter I take my eel-basket and eel-spear and travel out on foot<br> on the ice--I have a small axe to cut holes in the ice;<br> Behold me, well-clothed, going gaily, or returning in the afternoon--<br> my brood of tough boys accompaning me,<br> My brood of grown and part-grown boys, who love to be with no one<br> else so well as they love to be with me,<br> By day to work with me, and by night to sleep with me. 50</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Or, another time, in warm weather, out in a boat, to lift the<br> lobster-pots, where they are sunk with heavy stones, (I know<br> the buoys;)<br> O the sweetness of the Fifth-month morning upon the water, as I row,<br> just before sunrise, toward the buoys;<br> I pull the wicker pots up slantingly--the dark-green lobsters are<br> desperate with their claws, as I take them out--I insert wooden<br> pegs in the joints of their pincers,<br> I go to all the places, one after another, and then row back to the<br> shore,<br> There, in a huge kettle of boiling water, the lobsters shall be<br> boil'd till their color becomes scarlet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Or, another time, mackerel-taking,<br> Voracious, mad for the hook, near the surface, they seem to fill the<br> water for miles:<br> Or, another time, fishing for rock-fish, in Chesapeake Bay--I one of<br> the brown-faced crew:<br> Or, another time, trailing for blue-fish off Paumanok, I stand with<br> braced body,<br> My left foot is on the gunwale--my right arm throws the coils of<br> slender rope,   60<br> In sight around me the quick veering and darting of fifty skiffs, my<br> companions.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O boating on the rivers!<br> The voyage down the Niagara, (the St. Lawrence,)--the superb<br> scenery--the steamers,<br> The ships sailing--the Thousand Islands--the occasional timber-raft,<br> and the raftsmen with long-reaching sweep-oars,<br> The little huts on the rafts, and the stream of smoke when they cook<br> their supper at evening.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O something pernicious and dread!<br> Something far away from a puny and pious life!<br> Something unproved! Something in a trance!<br> Something escaped from the anchorage, and driving free.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O to work in mines, or forging iron!  70<br> Foundry casting--the foundry itself--the rude high roof--the ample<br> and shadow'd space,<br> The furnace--the hot liquid pour'd out and running.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O to resume the joys of the soldier:<br> To feel the presence of a brave general! to feel his sympathy!<br> To behold his calmness! to be warm'd in the rays of his smile!<br> To go to battle! to hear the bugles play, and the drums beat!<br> To hear the crash of artillery! to see the glittering of the bayonets<br> and musket-barrels in the sun!<br> To see men fall and die, and not complain!<br> To taste the savage taste of blood! to be so devilish!<br> To gloat so over the wounds and deaths of the enemy. 80</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O the whaleman's joys! O I cruise my old cruise again!<br> I feel the ship's motion under me--I feel the Atlantic breezes<br> fanning me,<br> I hear the cry again sent down from the mast-head--There--she blows!<br> --Again I spring up the rigging, to look with the rest--We see--we<br> descend, wild with excitement,<br> I leap in the lower'd boat--We row toward our prey, where he lies,<br> We approach, stealthy and silent--I see the mountainous mass,<br> lethargic, basking,<br> I see the harpooneer standing up--I see the weapon dart from his<br> vigorous arm:<br> O swift, again, now, far out in the ocean, the wounded whale,<br> settling, running to windward, tows me;<br> --Again I see him rise to breathe--We row close again,<br> I see a lance driven through his side, press'd deep, turn'd in the<br> wound,    90<br> Again we back off--I see him settle again--the life is leaving him<br> fast,<br> As he rises, he spouts blood--I see him swim in circles narrower and<br> narrower, swiftly cutting the water--I see him die;<br> He gives one convulsive leap in the centre of the circle, and then<br> falls flat and still in the bloody foam.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O the old manhood of me, my joy!<br> My children and grand-children--my white hair and beard,<br> My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long stretch of my life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O the ripen'd joy of womanhood!<br> O perfect happiness at last!<br> I am more than eighty years of age--my hair, too, is pure white--I am<br> the most venerable mother;<br> How clear is my mind! how all people draw nigh to me! 100<br> What attractions are these, beyond any before? what bloom, more than<br> the bloom of youth?<br> What beauty is this that descends upon me, and rises out of me?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O the orator's joys!<br> To inflate the chest--to roll the thunder of the voice out from the<br> ribs and throat,<br> To make the people rage, weep, hate, desire, with yourself,<br> To lead America--to quell America with a great tongue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O the joy of my soul leaning pois'd on itself--receiving identity<br> through materials, and loving them--observing characters, and<br> absorbing them;<br> O my soul, vibrated back to me, from them--from facts, sight,<br> hearing, touch, my phrenology, reason, articulation,<br> comparison, memory, and the like;<br> The real life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and<br> flesh;<br> My body, done with materials--my sight, done with my material<br> eyes;    110<br> Proved to me this day, beyond cavil, that it is not my material<br> eyes which finally see,<br> Nor my material body which finally loves, walks, laughs, shouts,<br> embraces, procreates.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O the farmer's joys!<br> Ohioan's, Illinoisian's, Wisconsinese', Kanadian's, Iowan's,<br> Kansian's, Missourian's, Oregonese' joys;<br> To rise at peep of day, and pass forth nimbly to work,<br> To plow land in the fall for winter-sown crops,<br> To plough land in the spring for maize,<br> To train orchards--to graft the trees--to gather apples in the fall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O the pleasure with trees!<br> The orchard--the forest--the oak, cedar, pine, pekan-tree, 120<br> The honey-locust, black-walnut, cottonwood, and magnolia.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O Death! the voyage of Death!<br> The beautiful touch of Death, soothing and benumbing a few moments,<br> for reasons;<br> Myself, discharging my excrementitious body, to be burn'd, or<br> render'd to powder, or buried,<br> My real body doubtless left to me for other spheres,<br> My voided body, nothing more to me, returning to the purifications,<br> further offices, eternal uses of the earth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O to bathe in the swimming-bath, or in a good place along shore!<br> To splash the water! to walk ankle-deep--to race naked along the<br> shore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O to realize space!<br> The plenteousness of all--that there are no bounds; 130<br> To emerge, and be of the sky--of the sun and moon, and the flying<br> clouds, as one with them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O the joy of a manly self-hood!<br> Personality--to be servile to none--to defer to none--not to any<br> tyrant, known or unknown,<br> To walk with erect carriage, a step springy and elastic,<br> To look with calm gaze, or with a flashing eye,<br> To speak with a full and sonorous voice, out of a broad chest,<br> To confront with your personality all the other personalities of the<br> earth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Know'st thou the excellent joys of youth?<br> Joys of the dear companions, and of the merry word, and laughing<br> face?<br> Joys of the glad, light-beaming day--joy of the wide-breath'd<br> games?    140<br> Joy of sweet music--joy of the lighted ball-room, and the dancers?<br> Joy of the friendly, plenteous dinner--the strong carouse, and<br> drinking?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Yet, O my soul supreme!<br> Know'st thou the joys of pensive thought?<br> Joys of the free and lonesome heart--the tender, gloomy heart?<br> Joy of the solitary walk--the spirit bowed yet proud--the suffering<br> and the struggle?<br> The agonistic throes, the extasies--joys of the solemn musings, day<br> or night?<br> Joys of the thought of Death--the great spheres Time and Space?<br> Prophetic joys of better, loftier love's ideals--the Divine Wife--the<br> sweet, eternal, perfect Comrade?<br> Joys all thine own, undying one--joys worthy thee, O Soul. 150</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O, while I live, to be the ruler of life--not a slave,<br> To meet life as a powerful conqueror,<br> No fumes--no ennui--no more complaints, or scornful criticisms.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O me repellent and ugly!<br> To these proud laws of the air, the water, and the ground, proving my<br> interior Soul impregnable,<br> And nothing exterior shall ever take command of me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O to attract by more than attraction!<br> How it is I know not--yet behold! the something which obeys none of<br> the rest,<br> It is offensive, never defensive--yet how magnetic it draws.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O joy of suffering!   160<br> To struggle against great odds! to meet enemies undaunted!<br> To be entirely alone with them! to find how much one can stand!<br> To look strife, torture, prison, popular odium, death, face to face!<br> To mount the scaffold! to advance to the muzzles of guns with perfect<br> nonchalance!<br> To be indeed a God!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O, to sail to sea in a ship!<br> To leave this steady, unendurable land!<br> To leave the tiresome sameness of the streets, the sidewalks and the<br> houses;<br> To leave you, O you solid motionless land, and entering a ship,<br> To sail, and sail, and sail!   170</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O to have my life henceforth a poem of new joys!<br> To dance, clap hands, exult, shout, skip, leap, roll on, float on,<br> To be a sailor of the world, bound for all ports,<br> A ship itself, (see indeed these sails I spread to the sun and air,)<br> A swift and swelling ship, full of rich words--full of joys.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Walt+Whitman">Walt Whitman</a><div class=q>
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 Even to set off these, and merge with these, the carols of Death.
 O full of music! full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!
 Full of common employments! full of grain and trees.

 O for the voices of animals! O for ..."></div>
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