Hence I sign this salute over the sea,
And I do not deny that terrible red birth and baptism,
But remember the little voice that I heard wailing,
and wait with
perfect trust, no matter how
long,
And from to-day sad and cogent I maintain the bequeath’d
cause, as
for all lands,
And I send these words to Paris with my love,
And I guess some chansonniers there will understand
them,
For I guess there is latent music yet in France, floods
of it,
O I hear already the bustle of instruments, they will
soon be
drowning all that would interrupt
them,
O I think the east wind brings a triumphal and free
march,
It reaches hither, it swells me to Joyful madness,
I will run transpose it in words, to justify
I will yet sing a song for you ma femme.
} Myself and Mine
Myself and mine gymnastic ever,
To stand the cold or heat, to take good aim with a
gun, to sail a
boat, to manage horses, to
beget superb children,
To speak readily and clearly, to feel at home among
common people,
And to hold our own in terrible positions on land
and sea.
Not for an embroiderer,
(There will always be plenty of embroiderers, I welcome
them also,)
But for the fibre of things and for inherent men and
women.
Not to chisel ornaments,
But to chisel with free stroke the heads and limbs
of plenteous
supreme Gods, that the States
may realize them walking and talking.
Let me have my own way,
Let others promulge the laws, I will make no account
of the laws,
Let others praise eminent men and hold up peace, I
hold up agitation
and conflict,
I praise no eminent man, I rebuke to his face the
one that was
thought most worthy.
(Who are you? and what are you secretly guilty of
all your life?
Will you turn aside all your life? will you grub and
chatter all
your life?
And who are you, blabbing by rote, years, pages, languages,
reminiscences,
Unwitting to-day that you do not know how to speak
properly a single word?)
Let others finish specimens, I never finish specimens,
I start them by exhaustless laws as Nature does, fresh
and modern
continually.
I give nothing as duties,
What others give as duties I give as living impulses,
(Shall I give the heart’s action as a duty?)
Let others dispose of questions, I dispose of nothing,
I arouse
unanswerable questions,
Who are they I see and touch, and what about them?
What about these likes of myself that draw me so close
by tender
directions and indirections?
I call to the world to distrust the accounts of my
friends, but
listen to my enemies, as I
myself do,
I charge you forever reject those who would expound
me, for I cannot
expound myself,
I charge that there be no theory or school founded
out of me,
I charge you to leave all free, as I have left all
free.


