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120 Admirers, importers, obedient persons, make the soil
 * of literature;

America justifies itself, give it time—no disguise can
 * deceive it, or conceal from it—it is impassive
 * enough,

Only toward the likes of itself will it advance to meet
 * them,

If its poets appear, it will advance to meet them—
 * there is no fear of mistake,

The proof of a poet shall be sternly deferred, till his
 * country absorbs him as affectionately as he has
 * absorbed it,

He masters whose spirit masters—he tastes sweetest
 * who results sweetest in the long run,

The blood of the brawn beloved of time is unconstraint, In the need of poems, philosophy, politics, manners,
 * engineering, an appropriate native grand-opera,
 * shipcraft, any craft, he or she is greatest who
 * contributes the greatest original practical example.

Already a nonchalant breed, silently emerging, fills
 * the houses and streets,

People's lips salute only doers, lovers, satisfiers,
 * positive knowers;

There will shortly be no more priests—I say their
 * work is done,

Death is without emergencies here, but life is perpetual
 * emergencies here,

Are your body, days, manners, superb? after death
 * you shall be superb;