Walt Whitman

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

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3

 Thunder on! stride on, Democracy! strike with vengeful stroke!
 And do you rise higher than ever yet O days, O cities!
 Crash heavier, heavier yet O storms! you have done me good,
 My soul prepared in the mountains absorbs your immortal strong nutriment,
 Long had I walk'd my cities, my country roads through farms, only
 half satisfied,
 One doubt nauseous undulating like a snake, crawl'd on the ground before me,
 Continually preceding my steps, turning upon me oft, ironically hissing low;
 The cities I loved so well I abandon'd and left, I sped to the
 certainties suitable to me,
 Hungering, hungering, hungering, for primal energies and Nature's
 dauntlessness,
 I refresh'd myself with it only, I could relish it only,
 I waited the bursting forth of the pent fire--on the water and air
 waited long;
 But now I no longer wait, I am fully satisfied, I am glutted,
 I have witness'd the true lightning, I have witness'd my cities electric,
 I have lived to behold man burst forth and warlike America rise,
 Hence I will seek no more the food of the northern solitary wilds,
 No more the mountains roam or sail the stormy sea.