Singest.

INSCRIPTIONS.

ONE'S-SELF I SING.

One's-self I sing—a simple, separate Person;

Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-masse.

Of Physiology from top to toe I sing;

Not physiognomy alone, nor brain alone, is worthy for
the muse—I say the Form complete is worthier
far;

The Female equally with the male I sing.

Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power,

Cheerful—for freest action form'd, under the laws di-
vine,

The Modern Man I sing.

AS I PONDER'D IN SILENCE.

1

AS I ponder'd in silence,

Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long,

A Phantom arose before me, with distrustful aspect,

Terrible in beauty, age, and power

The genius of poets of old lands,

As to me directing like flame its eyes,

With finger pointing to many immortal songs,

And menacing voice, What singest thou? it said;

Knowest thou not, there is but one theme for ever-enduring
bards?

And that is the theme of War, the fortune of battles,

The making of perfect soldiers?

2

Be it so, then I answer'd,

I too, haughty Shade, also sing war—and a longer and
greater one than any,

Waged in my book with varying fortune—with fight, ad-
vance, and retreat—Victory deferr'd and wavering,

(Yet, methinks, certain, or as good as certain, at the last,)
—The field the world;

For life and death—for the Body, and for the eternal Soul,

Lo! I too am come, chanting the chant of battles,

I, above all, promote brave soldiers.

Walt Whitman, from Leaves of Grass