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CAMPS OF GREEN
Not alone those camps of white, old comrades of the wars,
When as order'd forward, after a long march,
Footsore and weary, soon as the light lessens we halt for

the night, Some of us so fatigued carrying the gun and knapsack,

dropping asleep in our tracks, Others pitching the little tents, and the fires lit up begin

to sparkle, Outposts of pickets posted surrounding alert through the

dark, And a word provided for countersign, careful for safety, Till to the call of the drummers at daybreak loudly beating

the drums, We rise up refresh'd, the night and sleep pass'd over, and

resume our journey, Or proceed to battle. Lo, the camps of the tents of green, Which the days of peace keep filling, and the days of war

keep filling, With a mystic army, (is it too order'd forward ? is it too

only halting awhile, Till night and sleep pass over ?) Now in those camps of green, in their tents dotting the

world, In the parents, children, husbands, wives, in them, in the

old and young,

Sleeping under the sunlight, sleeping under the moonlight,

content and silent there at last, Behold the mighty bivouac-field and waiting-camp of all, Of the corps and generals all, and the President over the

corps and generals all, And each of us O soldiers, and of each and all in the

ranks we fought, (There without hatred we all, all meet.)

For presently O soldiers, we too camp in our place in the

bivouac-camps of green, But we need not provide for outposts, nor word for the

countersign, Nor drummer to beat the morning drum.

AS THEY DRAW TO A CLOSE
As they draw to a close,
Of what underlies the precedent songs — of my aims in

them,
Of the seed I have sought to plant in them,
Of joy, sweet joy, through many a year, in them,
(For them, for them have I lived, in them my work is

done,) Of many an aspiration fond, of many a dream and plan; Through Space and Time fused in a chant, and the flow

ing eternal identity, To Nature encompassing these, encompassing God — to

the joyous, electric all,
To the sense of Death, and accepting exulting in Death

in its turn the same as life,
The entrance of man to sing ;
To compact you, ye parted, diverse lives,
To put rapport the mountains and rocks and streams,
And the winds of the north, and the forests of oak and

pine,
With you O soul.

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JOY, SHIPMATE, JOY!
Joy, shipmate, joy!
(Pleas’d to my soul at death I cry,)
Our life is closed, our life begins,
The long, long anchorage we leave,
The ship is clear at last, she leaps !
She swiftly courses from the shore,
Joy, shipmate, joy.

THE UNTOLD WANT
The untold want by life and land ne'er granted,
Now voyager sail thou forth to seek and find.

PORTALS
What are those of the known but to ascend and enter the

Unknown?
And what are those of life but for Death?

THESE CAROLS
These carols sung to cheer my passage through the world

I see,
For completion I dedicate to the Invisible World.

SO LONG

I announce natural persons to arise,
I announce justice triumphant,
I announce uncompromising liberty and equality,
I announce the justification of candor and the justification

of pride. I announce that the identity of these States is a single

identity only, I announce the Union more and more compact,

indissoluble, I announce splendors and majesties to make all the pre

vious politics of the earth insignificant. I announce adhesiveness, I say it shall be limitless, un

loosen'd, I say you shall yet find the friend you were looking for. I announce a man or woman coming, perhaps you are the

one, (So long!) I announce the great individual, Auid as Nature, chaste,

affectionate, compassionate, fully arm'd.

I announce a life that shall be copious, vehement, spiritual,

bold, I announce an end that shall lightly and joyfully meet its

translation.

I announce myriads of youths, beautiful, gigantic, sweet

blooded, I announce a race of splendid and savage

old

men.

My songs cease, I abandon them,
From behind the screen where I hid I advance personally

solely to you. Camerado, this is no book, Who touches this touches a man, (Is it night ? are we here together alone ?) It is I you hold and who holds you, I spring from the pages into your arms — decease calls me

forth. O how your fingers drowse me, Your breath falls around me like dew, your pulse lulls the

tympans of my ears, I feel immerged from head to foot, Delicious, enough. Enough O deed impromptu and secret, Enough O gliding present — enough O summ’d-up past. Dear friend whoever you are take this kiss, I give it especially to you, do not forget me, I feel like one who has done work for the day to retire

awhile, I receive now again of my many translations, from my

avataras ascending, while others doubtless await me, An unknown sphere more real than I dream'd, more direct,

darts awakening rays about me, So long!
Remember my words, I may again return,
I love you, I depart from materials,
I am as one disembodied, triumphant, dead.

SANDS AT SEVENTY

MY CANARY BIRD
Did we count great, O soul, to penetrate the themes of

mighty books, Absorbing deep and full from thoughts, plays, speculations ? But now from thee to me, caged bird, to feel thy joyous

warble, Filling the air, the lonesome room, the long forenoon, Is it not just as great, O soul ?

a lack

WITH HUSKY-HAUGHTY LIPS, O SEA!
With husky-haughty lips, O sea !
Where day and night I wend thy surf-beat shore,
Imaging to my sense thy varied strange suggestions,
(I see and plainly list thy talk and conference here,)
Thy troops of white-maned racers racing to the goal,
Thy ample, smiling face, dash'd with the sparkling dim-

ples of the sun,
Thy brooding scowl and murk — thy unloos’d hurricanes,
Thy unsubduedness, caprices, wilfulness;
Great as thou art above the rest, thy many tears

from all eternity in thy content, (Naught but the greatest struggles, wrongs, defeats, could

make thee greatest — no less could make thee,) Thy lonely state — something thou ever seek'st and

seek'st, yet never gain'st, Surely some right withheld — some voice, in huge mo

notonous rage, of freedom-lover pent, Some vast heart, like a planet's, chain'd and chafing in

those breakers, By lengthen’d swell, and spasm, and panting breath, And rhythmic rasping of thy sands and waves, And serpent hiss, and savage peals of laughter, And undertones of distant lion roar, (Sounding, appealing to the sky's deaf ear — but now, rap

port for once,

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