The city wharf — Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Charleston, New Orleans, San Francisco,
The departing ships, when the sailors heave at the capstan ;
Evening — me in my room — the setting sun.
The setting summer sun shining in my open window, showing me flies, suspended, balancing in the air in the centre of the room, darting athwart, up and down, casting swift shadows in specks on the opposite wall, where the shine is ;
The athletic American matron speaking in public to crowds of listeners ;
Males, females, immigrants, combinations — the co- piousness — the individuality and sovereignty of The States, each for itself — the money- makers ;
Factories, machinery, the mechanical forces — the windlass, lever, pulley — All certainties.
The certainty of space, increase, freedom, futurity,
In space, the sporades, the scattered islands, the stars — on the firm earth, the lands, my lands,
O lands! all so dear to me — what you are, (whatever it is,) I become a part of that, whatever it is,
Southward there, I screaming, with wings slow flap- ping, with the myriads of gulls wintering along the coasts of Florida — or in Louisiana, with pelicans breeding,
Otherways, there, atwixt the banks of the Arkansaw, the Rio Grande, the Nueces, the Brazos, the Tombigbee, the Red River, the Saskatchawan, or the Osage, I with the spring waters laughing and skipping and running ;