Resting the grass amid and upon
O here I last saw him that tenderly loves me, and returns again
Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of life
No consummation exists without being from some long previous
Encircling all, vast-darting up and wide, the American Soul, with
Yea, Death, we bow our faces, veil our eyes to thee
So I pass, a little time vocal, visible, contrary
Cooling airs from Caucasus far, soothing cradle of man
Last-born? little and big? and for the errant?
In many a smiling mask death shall approach beguiling thee, thou in
Not every century nor every five centuries has containd such a
That savage trinity warily watching
One doubt nauseous undulating like a snake, crawld on the ground before me
Nor the regiments hastily coming up deploying in line of battle;
Saw many I loved in the street or ferry-boat or public assembly, yet
The little sisters huddle around speechless and dismayd,
Reaching the far-off sentry and the armed guards, who ceasd their pacing
And there is no trade or employment but the young man following it
The spread of the Baltic, Caspian, Bothnia, the British shores, and
Each belongs here or anywhere just as much as the well-off, just as
Glow upon all I have written or shall write, bleeding drops
You distant, dim unknownor young or oldcountless, unspecified
Resting the grass amid and upon
O here I last saw him that tenderly loves me, and returns again
Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of life
No consummation exists without being from some long previous
Encircling all, vast-darting up and wide, the American Soul, with
Yea, Death, we bow ...
