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Rh 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 façades of houses, and
 * goods in the windows,

Vehicles, teams, the heavy-planked wharves—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 slack-towed astern,

The hurrying tumbling waves, quick-broken crests,
 * slapping,

The strata of colored clouds, the long bar of maroon-tint,
 * away solitary by itself—the spread of purity
 * it lies motionless in,

The horizon's edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance
 * of salt-marsh and shore-mud;

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 part of him or her that peruses
 * them here.