Walt Whitman

LEAVES OF GRASS
(1891-92 issue)
complete book, e-book

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5

 We do not blame thee elder World, nor really separate ourselves from thee,
 (Would the son separate himself from the father?)
 Looking back on thee, seeing thee to thy duties, grandeurs, through
 past ages bending, building,
 We build to ours to-day.
 
 Mightier than Egypt's tombs,
 Fairer than Grecia's, Roma's temples,
 Prouder than Milan's statued, spired cathedral,
 More picturesque than Rhenish castle-keeps,
 We plan even now to raise, beyond them all,
 Thy great cathedral sacred industry, no tomb,
 A keep for life for practical invention.
 
 As in a waking vision,
 E'en while I chant I see it rise, I scan and prophesy outside and in,
 Its manifold ensemble.
 
 Around a palace, loftier, fairer, ampler than any yet,
 Earth's modern wonder, history's seven outstripping,
 High rising tier on tier with glass and iron facades,
 Gladdening the sun and sky, enhued in cheerfulest hues,
 Bronze, lilac, robin's-egg, marine and crimson,
 Over whose golden roof shall flaunt, beneath thy banner Freedom,
 The banners of the States and flags of every land,
 A brood of lofty, fair, but lesser palaces shall cluster.
 
 Somewhere within their walls shall all that forwards perfect human
 life be started,
 Tried, taught, advanced, visibly exhibited.
 
 Not only all the world of works, trade, (...)
(......)