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186 They seem to me like Nature at last, (America has
 * given birth to them, and I have also;)

They seem to me at last as perfect as the animals,
 * and as the rocks and weeds—fitted to them,

Fitted to the sky, to float with floating clouds—to
 * rustle among the trees with rustling leaves,

To stretch with stretched and level waters, where
 * ships silently sail in the distance.

What do you suppose Creation is? What do you suppose will satisfy the Soul, except to
 * walk free and own no superior?

What do you suppose I have intimated to you in a
 * hundred ways, but that man or woman is as good
 * as God?

And that there is no God any more divine than
 * Yourself?

And that that is what the oldest and newest myths
 * finally mean?

And that you or any one must approach Creations
 * through such laws?



to come! Not to-day is to justify me, and Democracy, and
 * what we are for,

But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental,
 * greater than before known,

You must justify me.