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246 I hear the Hindoo teaching his favorite pupil the
 * loves, wars, adages, transmitted safely to this
 * day from poets who wrote three thousand years
 * ago.

What do you see, Walt Whitman? Who are they who salute, and that one after another
 * salute you?

I see a great round wonder rolling through the air, I see diminute farms, hamlets, ruins, grave-yards, jails,
 * factories, palaces, hovels, huts of barbarians, tents
 * of nomads, upon the surface,

I see the shaded part on one side, where the sleepers
 * are sleeping—and the sun-lit part on the other
 * side,

I see the curious silent change of the light and shade, I see distant lands, as real and near to the inhabitants
 * of them, as my land is to me.

I see plenteous waters, I see mountain peaks—I see the sierras of Andes and
 * Alleghanies, where they range,

I see plainly the Himmalehs, Chian Shahs, Altays,
 * Gauts,

I see the Rocky Mountains, and the Peak of Winds, I see the Styrian Alps, and the Karnac Alps, I see the Pyrenees, Balks, Carpathians—and to the
 * north the Dofrafields, and off at sea Mount Hecla,

I see Vesuvius and Etna—I see the Anahuacs, I see the Mountains of the Moon, and the Snow Mountains,
 * and the Red Mountains of Madagascar,

I see the Vermont hills, and the long string of Cordilleras;