POETS Main Page INDEX of Poets INDEX of Titles & First Lines Whitman menu

Whitman

Walt Whitman
1819-1892

"Song of Myself –
No.46"

 

I know I have the best of time and space, and was never
                         measured and never will be measured.
I tramp a perpetual journey (come listen all!),
My signs are a rainproof coat, good shoes, and a staff cut from
                         the woods,
No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair,
I have no chair, no church, no philosophy,
I lead no man to a dinner table, library, exchange,
But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll,
My left hand hooking you round the waist,
My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents and the
                         public road.
Not I, not anyone else can travel that road for you,
You must travel it for yourself.
It is not far, it is within reach,
Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not
                         know,
Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land.
Shoulder your duds, dear son, and I will mine, and let us
                         hasten forth,
Wonderful cities and free nations we shall fetch as we go.
If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the chuff of your
                         hand on my hip,
And in due time you shall repay the same service to me,
For after we start we never lie by again.
This day before dawn I ascended a hill and looked at the
                         crowded heaven,
And I said to my spirit When we become the enfolders of those
                         orbs, and the pleasure and knowledge of
                         everything in them, shall we be filled and
                         satisfied then?

And my spirit said No, we but level that lift to pass and continue
                         beyond.

You are also asking me questions and I hear you,
I answer that I cannot answer, you must find out for yourself.
Sit awhile, dear son,
Here are biscuits to eat and here is milk to drink,
But as soon as you sleep and renew yourself in sweet clothes,
                         I kiss you with a good-by kiss and open the
                         gate for your egress hence.
Long enough have you dreamed contemptible dreams,
Now I wash the gum from your eyes,
You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every
                         moment of your life.
Long have you timidly waded holding a plank by the shore,
Now I will you to be a bold swimmer,
To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod to me,
                         shout, and laughingly dash with your hair.

POETS Main Page INDEX of Poets INDEX of Titles & First Lines Whitman menu