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object:1.whitman - Crossing Brooklyn Ferry
author class:Walt Whitman
subject class:Poetry
book class:Whitman - Poems
class:chapter


FLOOD-TIDE below me! I watch you face to face;
Clouds of the west! sun there half an hour high! I see you also face
    to face.

Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes! how curious
    you are to me!
On the ferry-boats, the hundreds and hundreds that cross, returning
    home, are more curious to me than you suppose;
And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence, are more to
    me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose.


The impalpable sustenance of me from all things, at all hours of the
    day;
The simple, compact, well-join'd schememyself disintegrated, every
    one disintegrated, yet part of the scheme:
The similitude's of the past, and those of the future;
The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearingson
    the walk in the street, and the passage over the river;
The current rushing so swiftly, and swimming with me far away;


The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them;
The certainty of othersthe life, love, sight, hearing of others.

Others will enter the gates of the ferry, and cross from shore to
    shore;
Others will watch the run of the flood-tide;
Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the
    heights of Brooklyn to the south and east;
Others will see the islands large and small;
Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half
    an hour high;
A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others
    will see them,
Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring in of the flood-tide, the falling
    back to the sea of the ebb-tide.


It avails not, neither time or placedistance avails not;  


I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so many
    generations hence;
I project myselfalso I returnI am with you, and know how it is.

Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt;
Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd;
Just as you are refresh'd by the gladness of the river and the bright
    flow, I was refresh'd;
Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift
    current, I stood, yet was hurried;
Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships, and the thick-
    stem'd pipes of steamboats, I look'd.

I too many and many a time cross'd the river, the sun half an hour
    high;
I watched the Twelfth-month sea-gullsI saw them high in the air,
    floating with motionless wings, oscillating their bodies,
I saw how the glistening yellow lit up parts of their bodies, and
    left the rest in strong shadow,              


I saw the slow-wheeling circles, and the gradual edging toward the
    south.

I too saw the reflection of the summer sky in the water,
Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams,
Look'd at the fine centrifugal spokes of light around the shape of my
    head in the sun-lit water,
Look'd on the haze on the hills southward and southwestward,
Look'd on the vapor as it flew in fleeces tinged with violet,
Look'd toward the lower bay to notice the arriving ships,
Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me,
Saw the white sails of schooners and sloopssaw the ships at anchor,
The sailors at work in the rigging, or out astride the spars,  


The round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls, the slender
    serpentine pennants,
The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in their pilot-
    houses,
The white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous whirl of the
    wheels,
The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sun-set,
The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled cups, the
    frolicsome crests and glistening,
The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the gray walls of the
    granite store-houses by the docks,
On the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug closely flank'd on
    each side by the bargesthe hay-boat, the belated lighter,
On the neighboring shore, the fires from the foundry chimneys burning
    high and glaringly into the night,
Casting their flicker of black, contrasted with wild red and yellow
    light, over the tops of houses, and down into the clefts of
    streets.


These, and all else, were to me the same as they are to you;  


I project myself a moment to tell youalso I return.

I loved well those cities;
I loved well the stately and rapid river;
The men and women I saw were all near to me;
Others the sameothers who look back on me, because I look'd forward
    to them;
(The time will come, though I stop here to-day and to-night.)


What is it, then, between us?
What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us?

Whatever it is, it avails notdistance avails not, and place avails
    not.


I too livedBrooklyn, of ample hills, was mine;        


I too walk'd the streets of Manhattan Island, and bathed in the
    waters around it;
I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me,
In the day, among crowds of people, sometimes they came upon me,
In my walks home late at night, or as I lay in my bed, they came upon
    me.

I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution;
I too had receiv'd identity by my Body;
That I was, I knew was of my bodyand what I should be, I knew I
    should be of my body.


It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall,
The dark threw patches down upon me also;
The best I had done seem'd to me blank and suspicious;    


My great thoughts, as I supposed them, were they not in reality
    meagre? would not people laugh at me?

It is not you alone who know what it is to be evil;
I am he who knew what it was to be evil;
I too knitted the old knot of contrariety,
Blabb'd, blush'd, resented, lied, stole, grudg'd,
Had guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak,
Was wayward, vain, greedy, shallow, sly, cowardly, malignant;
The wolf, the snake, the hog, not wanting in me,
The cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous wish, not
    wanting,
Refusals, hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, none of these
    wanting.                        




But I was Manhattanese, friendly and proud!
I was call'd by my nighest name by clear loud voices of young men as
    they saw me approaching or passing,
Felt their arms on my neck as I stood, or the negligent leaning of
    their flesh against me as I sat,
Saw many I loved in the street, or ferry-boat, or public assembly,
    yet never told them a word,
Lived the same life with the rest, the same old laughing, gnawing,
    sleeping,
Play'd the part that still looks back on the actor or actress,
The same old role, the role that is what we make it, as great as we
    like,
Or as small as we like, or both great and small.


Closer yet I approach you;
What thought you have of me, I had as much of youI laid in my
    stores in advance;                    


I consider'd long and seriously of you before you were born.

Who was to know what should come home to me?
Who knows but I am enjoying this?
Who knows but I am as good as looking at you now, for all you cannot
    see me?

It is not you alone, nor I alone;
Not a few races, nor a few generations, nor a few centuries;
It is that each came, or comes, or shall come, from its due emission,
From the general centre of all, and forming a part of all:
Everything indicatesthe smallest does, and the largest does;
A necessary film envelopes all, and envelopes the Soul for a proper
    time.                          

Now I am curious what sight can ever be more stately and admirable to
    me than my mast-hemm'd Manhattan,
My river and sun-set, and my scallop-edg'd waves of flood-tide,
The sea-gulls oscillating their bodies, the hay-boat in the twilight,
    and the belated lighter;
Curious what Gods can exceed these that clasp me by the hand, and
    with voices I love call me promptly and loudly by my nighest
    name as I approach;
Curious what is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or
    man that looks in my face,
Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you.

We understand, then, do we not?
What I promis'd without mentioning it, have you not accepted?
What the study could not teachwhat the preaching could not
    accomplish, is accomplish'd, is it not?
What the push of reading could not start, is started by me
    personally, is it not?                  

Flow on, river! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb-tide!
Frolic on, crested and scallop-edg'd waves!
Gorgeous clouds of the sun-set! drench with your splendor me, or the
    men and women generations after me;
Cross from shore to shore, countless crowds of passengers!
Stand up, tall masts of Mannahatta!stand up, beautiful hills of
    Brooklyn!
Throb, baffled and curious brain! throw out questions and answers!
Suspend here and everywhere, eternal float of solution!
Gaze, loving and thirsting eyes, in the house, or street, or public
    assembly!
Sound out, voices of young men! loudly and musically call me by my
    nighest name!
Live, old life! play the part that looks back on the actor or
    actress!                        



Play the old role, the role that is great or small, according as one
    makes it!

Consider, you who peruse me, whether I may not in unknown ways be
    looking upon you;
Be firm, rail over the river, to support those who lean idly, yet
    haste with the hasting current;
Fly on, sea-birds! fly sideways, or wheel in large circles high in
    the air;
Receive the summer sky, you water! and faithfully hold it, till all
    downcast eyes have time to take it from you;
Diverge, fine spokes of light, from the shape of my head, or any
    one's head, in the sun-lit water;
Come on, ships from the lower bay! pass up or down, white-sail'd
    schooners, sloops, lighters!
Flaunt away, flags of all nations! be duly lower'd at sunset;
Burn high your fires, foundry chimneys! cast black shadows at
    nightfall! cast red and yellow light over the tops of the
    houses;
Appearances, now or henceforth, indicate what you are;    



You necessary film, continue to envelop the soul;
About my body for me, and your body for you, be hung our divinest
    aromas;
Thrive, cities! bring your freight, bring your shows, ample and
    sufficient rivers;
Expand, being than which none else is perhaps more spiritual;
Keep your places, objects than which none else is more lasting.


We descend upon you and all thingswe arrest you all;
We realize the soul only by you, you faithful solids and fluids;
Through you color, form, location, sublimity, ideality;
Through you every proof, comparison, and all the suggestions and
    determinations of ourselves.

You have waited, you always wait, you dumb, beautiful ministers! you
    novices!                        



We receive you with free sense at last, and are insatiate
    henceforward;
Not you any more shall be able to foil us, or withhold yourselves
    from us;
We use you, and do not cast you asidewe plant you permanently
    within us;
We fathom you notwe love youthere is perfection in you also;
You furnish your parts toward eternity;
Great or small, you furnish your parts toward the soul.






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1.whitman - Crossing Brooklyn Ferry
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