washington's monument, february, 1885 - walt whitman lyrics
ah, not this marble, dead and cold:
far from its base and shaft expanding—the round zones circling
comprehending
thou, washington, art all the world’s, the continents’ entire—
not yours alone, america
europe’s as well, in every part, castle of lord or laborer’s cot
or frozen north, or sultry south—the african’s—the arab’s in
his tent
old asia’s there with venerable smile, seated amid her ruins;
(greets the antique the hero new? ’tis but the same—the heir
legitimate, continued ever
the indomitable heart and arm—proofs of the never-broken
line
courage, alertness, patience, faith, the same—e’en in defeat
defeated not, the same:)
wherever sails a ship, or house is built on land, or day or night
through teeming cities’ streets, indoors or out, factories or farms
now, or to come, or past—where patriot wills existed or exist
wherever freedom, pois’d by toleration, sway’d by law
stands or is rising thy true monument
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