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Rh And the old drunkard staggering home from the outhouse of the tavern whence he had lately risen, And the schoolmistress that passed on her way to the school .. and the friendly boys that passed .. and the quarrelsome boys .. and the tidy and freshcheeked girls .. and the barefoot negro boy and girl, And all the changes of city and country wherever he went.

His own parents .. he that had propelled the fatherstuff at night, and fathered him ... and she that conceived him in her womb and birthed him .... they gave this child more of themselves than that, They gave him afterward every day .... they and of them became part of him.

The mother at home quietly placing the dishes on the suppertable, The mother with mild words .... clean her cap and gown .... a wholesome odor falling off her person and clothes as she walks by: The father, strong, selfsufficient, manly, mean, angered, unjust, The blow, the quick loud word, the tight bargain, the crafty lure, The family usages, the language, the company, the furniture .... the yearning and swelling heart, Affection that will not be gainsayed .... The sense of what is real .... the thought if after all it should prove unreal, The doubts of daytime and the doubts of nighttime... the curious whether and how, Whether that which appears so is so .... Or is it all flashes and specks? Men and women crowding fast in the streets .. if they are not flashes and specks what are they? The streets themselves, and the facades of houses .... the goods in the windows, Vehicles .. teams .. the tiered wharves, and the huge crossing at the ferries; The village on the highland seen from afar at sunset .... the river between, Shadows .. aureola and mist .. light falling on roofs and gables of white or brown, three miles off, The schooner near by sleepily dropping down the tide .. the little boat slacktowed astern, The hurrying tumbling waves and quickbroken crests and slapping; The strata of colored clouds .... the long bar of maroontint away solitary by itself .... the spread of purity it lies motionless in, The horizon’s edge, the flying seacrow, the fragrance of saltmarsh and shoremud; These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes and will always go forth every day, And these become of him or her that peruses them now.