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Here, Sailor


WHAT ship, puzzled at sea, cons for the true reckoning?
Or, coming in, to avoid the bars, and follow the channel, a perfect
pilot needs?
Here, sailor! Here, ship! take aboard the most perfect pilot,
Whom, in a little boat, putting off, and rowing, I, hailing you,
offer.

As If A Phantom Caress'd Me


AS if a phantom caress'd me,
I thought I was not alone, walking here by the shore;
But the one I thought was with me, as now I walk by the shore--the
one I loved, that caress'd me,
As I lean and look through the glimmering light--that one has utterly
disappear'd,
And those appear that are hateful to me, and mock me.

O Living Always--Always Dying


O LIVING always--always dying!
O the burials of me, past and present!
O me, while I stride ahead, material, visible, imperious as ever!
O me, what I was for years, now dead, (I lament not--I am content;)
O to disengage myself from those corpses of me, which I turn and look
at, where I cast them!
To pass on, (O living! always living!) and leave the corpses behind!

To A Certain Cantatrice


HERE, take this gift!
I was reserving it for some hero, speaker, or General,
One who should serve the good old cause, the great Idea, the progress
and freedom of the race;
Some brave confronter of despots--some daring rebel;
--But I see that what I was reserving, belongs to you just as much as
to any.