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object:1.whitman - A Broadway Pageant
author class:Walt Whitman
subject class:Poetry
book class:Whitman - Poems
class:chapter


Over the western sea, hither from Niphon come,
Courteous, the swart-cheek'd two-sworded envoys,
Leaning back in their open barouches, bare-headed, impassive,
Ride to-day through Manhattan.

Libertad!
I do not know whether others behold what I behold,
In the procession, along with the nobles of Asia, the errand-
    bearers,
Bringing up the rear, hovering above, around, or in the ranks
    marching;
But I will sing you a song of what I behold, Libertad.


When million-footed Manhattan, unpent, descends to her pavements;


When the thunder-cracking guns arouse me with the proud roar I love;
When the round-mouth'd guns, out of the smoke and smell I love, spit
    their salutes;
When the fire-flashing guns have fully alerted mewhen heaven-clouds
    canopy my city with a delicate thin haze;
When, gorgeous, the countless straight stems, the forests at the
    wharves, thicken with colors;
When every ship, richly drest, carries her flag at the peak;
When pennants trail, and street-festoons hang from the windows;
When Broadway is entirely given up to foot-passengers and foot-
    standerswhen the mass is densest;
When the faades of the houses are alive with peoplewhen eyes gaze,
    riveted, tens of thousands at a time;
When the guests from the islands advancewhen the pageant moves
    forward, visible;
When the summons is madewhen the answer that waited thousands of
    years, answers;                      


I too, arising, answering, descend to the pavements, merge with the
    crowd, and gaze with them.


Superb-faced Manhattan!
Comrade Americanos!to us, then, at last, the Orient comes.

To us, my city,
Where our tall-topt marble and iron beauties range on opposite
    sidesto walk in the space between,
To-day our Antipodes comes.

The Originatress comes,
The nest of languages, the bequeather of poems, the race of eld,
Florid with blood, pensive, rapt with musings, hot with passion,
Sultry with perfume, with ample and flowing garments,


With sunburnt visage, with intense soul and glittering eyes,
The race of Brahma comes!


See, my cantabile! these, and more, are flashing to us from the
    procession;
As it moves, changing, a kaleidoscope divine it moves, changing,
    before us.

For not the envoys, nor the tann'd Japanee from his island only;
Lithe and silent, the Hindoo appearsthe Asiatic continent itself
    appearsthe Past, the dead,
The murky night morning of wonder and fable, inscrutable,
The envelop'd mysteries, the old and unknown hive-bees,
The Norththe sweltering Southeastern Assyriathe Hebrewsthe
    Ancient of Ancients,
Vast desolated citiesthe gliding Presentall of these, and more,
    are in the pageant-procession.              



Geography, the world, is in it;
The Great Sea, the brood of islands, Polynesia, the coast beyond;
The coast you, henceforth, are facingyou Libertad! from your
    Western golden shores
The countries there, with their populationsthe millions en-masse,
    are curiously here;
The swarming market placesthe temples, with idols ranged along the
    sides, or at the endbonze, brahmin, and lama;
The mandarin, farmer, merchant, mechanic, and fisherman;
The singing-girl and the dancing-girlthe ecstatic personthe
    secluded Emperors,
Confucius himselfthe great poets and heroesthe warriors, the
    castes, all,
Trooping up, crowding from all directionsfrom the Altay mountains,
From Thibetfrom the four winding and far-flowing rivers of
    China,                          


From the Southern peninsulas, and the demi-continental islandsfrom
    Malaysia;
These, and whatever belongs to them, palpable, show forth to me, and
    are seiz'd by me,
And I am seiz'd by them, and friendlily held by them,
Till, as here, them all I chant, Libertad! for themselves and for
    you.


For I too, raising my voice, join the ranks of this pageant;
I am the chanterI chant aloud over the pageant;
I chant the world on my Western Sea;
I chant, copious, the islands beyond, thick as stars in the sky;
I chant the new empire, grander than any beforeAs in a vision it
    comes to me;
I chant America, the MistressI chant a greater supremacy;  


I chant, projected, a thousand blooming cities yet, in time, on those
    groups of sea-islands;
I chant my sail-ships and steam-ships threading the archipelagoes;
I chant my stars and stripes fluttering in the wind;
I chant commerce opening, the sleep of ages having done its work
    races, reborn, refresh'd;
Lives, works, resumedThe object I know notbut the old, the
    Asiatic, renew'd, as it must be,
Commencing from this day, surrounded by the world.


And you, Libertad of the world!
You shall sit in the middle, well-pois'd, thousands of years;
As to-day, from one side, the nobles of Asia come to you;
As to-morrow, from the other side, the Queen of England sends her
    eldest son to you.                    




The sign is reversing, the orb is enclosed,
The ring is circled, the journey is done;
The box-lid is but perceptibly open'dnevertheless the perfume pours
    copiously out of the whole box.


Young Libertad!
With the venerable Asia, the all-mother,
Be considerate with her, now and ever, hot Libertadfor you are all;
Bend your proud neck to the long-off mother, now sending messages
    over the archipelagoes to you;
Bend your proud neck low for once, young Libertad.


Were the children straying westward so long? so wide the tramping?
Were the precedent dim ages debouching westward from Paradise so
    long?                          


Were the centuries steadily footing it that way, all the while
    unknown, for you, for reasons?

They are justifiedthey are accomplish'dthey shall now be turn'd
    the other way also, to travel toward you thence;
They shall now also march obediently eastward, for your sake,
    Libertad.






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1.whitman - A Broadway Pageant
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