A Broadway Pageant
Over
the
western
sea,
hither
from
Niphon
come,
Courteous,
the
swart-cheek'd
two-sworded
envoys,
Leaning
back
in
their
open
barouches,
bare-headed,
impassive,
Ride
to-day
through
Manhattan.
Libertad!
I
do
not
know
whether
others
behold
what
I
behold,
In
the
procession,
along
with
the
nobles
of
Asia,
the
errand-
bearers,
Bringing
up
the
rear,
hovering
above,
around,
or
in
the
ranks
marching;
But
I
will
sing
you
a
song
of
what
I
behold,
Libertad.
When
million-footed
Manhattan,
unpent,
descends
to
her
pavements;
When
the
thunder-cracking
guns
arouse
me
with
the
proud
roar
I
love;
When
the
round-mouth'd
guns,
out
of
the
smoke
and
smell
I
love,
spit
their
salutes;
When
the
fire-flashing
guns
have
fully
alerted
me—when
heaven-clouds
canopy
my
city
with
a
delicate
thin
haze;
When,
gorgeous,
the
countless
straight
stems,
the
forests
at
the
wharves,
thicken
with
colors;
When
every
ship,
richly
drest,
carries
her
flag
at
the
peak;
When
pennants
trail,
and
street-festoons
hang
from
the
windows;
When
Broadway
is
entirely
given
up
to
foot-passengers
and
foot-
standers—when
the
mass
is
densest;
When
the
façades
of
the
houses
are
alive
with
people—when
eyes
gaze,
riveted,
tens
of
thousands
at
a
time;
When
the
guests
from
the
islands
advance—when
the
pageant
moves
forward,
visible;
When
the
summons
is
made—when
the
answer
that
waited
thousands
of
years,
answers;
I
too,
arising,
answering,
descend
to
the
pavements,
merge
with
the
crowd,
and
gaze
with
them.
Superb-faced
Manhattan!
Comrade
Americanos!—to
us,
then,
at
last,
the
Orient
comes.
To
us,
my
city,
Where
our
tall-topt
marble
and
iron
beauties
range
on
opposite
sides—to
walk
in
the
space
between,
To-day
our
Antipodes
comes.
The
Originatress
comes,
The
nest
of
languages,
the
bequeather
of
poems,
the
race
of
eld,
Florid
with
blood,
pensive,
rapt
with
musings,
hot
with
passion,
Sultry
with
perfume,
with
ample
and
flowing
garments,
With
sunburnt
visage,
with
intense
soul
and
glittering
eyes,
The
race
of
Brahma
comes!
See,
my
cantabile!
these,
and
more,
are
flashing
to
us
from
the
procession;
As
it
moves,
changing,
a
kaleidoscope
divine
it
moves,
changing,
before
us.
For
not
the
envoys,
nor
the
tann'd
Japanee
from
his
island
only;
Lithe
and
silent,
the
Hindoo
appears—the
Asiatic
continent
itself
appears—the
Past,
the
dead,
The
murky
night
morning
of
wonder
and
fable,
inscrutable,
The
envelop'd
mysteries,
the
old
and
unknown
hive-bees,
The
North—the
sweltering
South—eastern
Assyria—the
Hebrews—the
Ancient
of
Ancients,
Vast
desolated
cities—the
gliding
Present—all
of
these,
and
more,
are
in
the
pageant-procession.
Geography,
the
world,
is
in
it;
The
Great
Sea,
the
brood
of
islands,
Polynesia,
the
coast
beyond;
The
coast
you,
henceforth,
are
facing—you
Libertad!
from
your
Western
golden
shores
The
countries
there,
with
their
populations—the
millions
en-masse,
are
curiously
here;
The
swarming
market
places—the
temples,
with
idols
ranged
along
the
sides,
or
at
the
end—bonze,
brahmin,
and
lama;
The
mandarin,
farmer,
merchant,
mechanic,
and
fisherman;
The
singing-girl
and
the
dancing-girl—the
ecstatic
person—the
secluded
Emperors,
Confucius
himself—the
great
poets
and
heroes—the
warriors,
the
castes,
all,
Trooping
up,
crowding
from
all
directions—from
the
Altay
mountains,
From
Thibet—from
the
four
winding
and
far-flowing
rivers
of
China,
From
the
Southern
peninsulas,
and
the
demi-continental
islands—from
Malaysia;
These,
and
whatever
belongs
to
them,
palpable,
show
forth
to
me,
and
are
seiz'd
by
me,
And
I
am
seiz'd
by
them,
and
friendlily
held
by
them,
Till,
as
here,
them
all
I
chant,
Libertad!
for
themselves
and
for
you.
For
I
too,
raising
my
voice,
join
the
ranks
of
this
pageant;
I
am
the
chanter—I
chant
aloud
over
the
pageant;
I
chant
the
world
on
my
Western
Sea;
I
chant,
copious,
the
islands
beyond,
thick
as
stars
in
the
sky;
I
chant
the
new
empire,
grander
than
any
before—As
in
a
vision
it
comes
to
me;
I
chant
America,
the
Mistress—I
chant
a
greater
supremacy;
I
chant,
projected,
a
thousand
blooming
cities
yet,
in
time,
on
those
groups
of
sea-islands;
I
chant
my
sail-ships
and
steam-ships
threading
the
archipelagoes;
I
chant
my
stars
and
stripes
fluttering
in
the
wind;
I
chant
commerce
opening,
the
sleep
of
ages
having
done
its
work—
races,
reborn,
refresh'd;
Lives,
works,
resumed—The
object
I
know
not—but
the
old,
the
Asiatic,
renew'd,
as
it
must
be,
Commencing
from
this
day,
surrounded
by
the
world.
And
you,
Libertad
of
the
world!
You
shall
sit
in
the
middle,
well-pois'd,
thousands
of
years;
As
to-day,
from
one
side,
the
nobles
of
Asia
come
to
you;
As
to-morrow,
from
the
other
side,
the
Queen
of
England
sends
her
eldest
son
to
you.
The
sign
is
reversing,
the
orb
is
enclosed,
The
ring
is
circled,
the
journey
is
done;
The
box-lid
is
but
perceptibly
open'd—nevertheless
the
perfume
pours
copiously
out
of
the
whole
box.
Young
Libertad!
With
the
venerable
Asia,
the
all-mother,
Be
considerate
with
her,
now
and
ever,
hot
Libertad—for
you
are
all;
Bend
your
proud
neck
to
the
long-off
mother,
now
sending
messages
over
the
archipelagoes
to
you;
Bend
your
proud
neck
low
for
once,
young
Libertad.
Were
the
children
straying
westward
so
long?
so
wide
the
tramping?
Were
the
precedent
dim
ages
debouching
westward
from
Paradise
so
long?
Were
the
centuries
steadily
footing
it
that
way,
all
the
while
unknown,
for
you,
for
reasons?
They
are
justified—they
are
accomplish'd—they
shall
now
be
turn'd
the
other
way
also,
to
travel
toward
you
thence;
They
shall
now
also
march
obediently
eastward,
for
your
sake,
Libertad.
Walt Whitman
Walt Whitman, (born May 31, 1819, West Hills, Long Island, New York, U.S.—died March 26, 1892, Camden, New Jersey), American poet, journalist, and essayist whose verse collection Leaves of Grass, first published in 1855, is a landmark in the history of American literature. Walt Whitman’s poetry was innovative for its verse style and for the way it challenged traditional narratives. He championed the individual soul over social conventions, presenting himself as a rough and free spirit. His poetry has continued to resonate with new generations of Americans, and he is considered a symbol of American democracy.