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Rh And if the memorials of the dead were put up indifferently
 * everywhere, even in the room where I
 * eat or sleep, I should be satisfied,

And if the corpse of any one I love, or if my own
 * corpse, be duly rendered to powder, and poured
 * in the sea, I shall be satisfied,

Or if it be distributed to the winds, I shall be satisfied.



of my walks and joys! City whom that I have lived and sung there will one
 * day make you illustrious,

Not the pageants of you—not your shifting tableaux,
 * your spectacles, repay me,

Not the interminable rows of your houses—nor the
 * ships at the wharves,

Nor the processions in the streets, nor the bright
 * windows, with goods in them,

Nor to converse with learned persons, or bear my
 * share in the soiree or feast;

Not those—but, as I pass, O Manhattan! your
 * frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love,

Offering me the response of my own—these repay
 * me,

Lovers, continual lovers, only repay me.