Land tolerating all, accepting all, not for the good alone, all good

for thee,

Land in the realms of God to be a realm unto thyself,

Under the rule of God to be a rule unto thyself.

(Lo, where arise three peerless stars,

To be thy natal stars my country, Ensemble, Evolution, Freedom,

Set in the sky of Law.)

Land of unprecedented faith, God's faith,

Thy soil, thy very subsoil, all upheav'd,

The general inner earth so long so sedulously draped over, now hence

for what it is boldly laid bare,

Open'd by thee to heaven's light for benefit or bale.

Not for success alone,

Not to fair-sail unintermitted always,

The storm shall dash thy face, the murk of war and worse than war

shall cover thee all over,

(Wert capable of war, its tug and trials? be capable of peace, its trials,

For the tug and mortal strain of nations come at last in prosperous

peace, not war;)

In many a smiling mask death shall approach beguiling thee, thou in

disease shalt swelter,

The livid cancer spread its hideous claws, clinging upon thy

breasts, seeking to strike thee deep within,

Consumption of the worst, moral consumption, shall rouge thy face

with hectic,

But thou shalt face thy fortunes, thy diseases, and surmount them all,

Whatever they are to-day and whatever through time they may be,

They each and all shall lift and pass away and cease from thee,

While thou, Time's spirals rounding, out of thyself, thyself still

extricating, fusing,

Equable, natural, mystical Union thou, (the mortal with immortal blent,)

Shalt soar toward the fulfilment of the future, the spirit of the

body and the mind,

The soul, its destinies.

The soul, its destinies, the real real,

(Purport of all these apparitions of the real;)

In thee America, the soul, its destinies,

Thou globe of globes! thou wonder nebulous!

By many a throe of heat and cold convuls'd, (by these thyself solidifying,)

Thou mental, moral orb--thou New, indeed new, Spiritual World!

The Present holds thee not--for such vast growth as thine,

For such unparallel'd flight as thine, such brood as thine,

The FUTURE only holds thee and can hold thee.

A Paumanok Picture

Two boats with nets lying off the sea-beach, quite still,

Ten fishermen waiting--they discover a thick school of mossbonkers

--they drop the join'd seine-ends in the water,

The boats separate and row off, each on its rounding course to the

beach, enclosing the mossbonkers,

The net is drawn in by a windlass by those who stop ashore,

Some of the fishermen lounge in their boats, others stand

ankle-deep in the water, pois'd on strong legs,

The boats partly drawn up, the water slapping against them,

Strew'd on the sand in heaps and windrows, well out from the water,

the green-back'd spotted mossbonkers.