Page:Leaves of Grass (1860).djvu/390

382 The round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls,
 * the slender serpentine pennants,

The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in
 * their pilot-houses,

The white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous
 * whirl of the wheels,

The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sun-set, The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled
 * cups, the frolicsome crests and glistening,

The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the
 * gray walls of the granite store-houses by the
 * docks,

On the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug
 * closely flanked on each side by the barges—the
 * hay-boat, the belated lighter,

On the neighboring shore, the fires from the foundry
 * chimneys burning high and glaringly into the
 * night,

Casting their flicker of black, contrasted with wild
 * red and yellow light, over the tops of houses,
 * and down into the clefts of streets.

These, and all else, were to me the same as they are
 * to you,

I project myself a moment to tell you—also I
 * return.

I loved well those cities, I loved well the stately and rapid river, The men and women I saw were all near to me, Others the same—others who look back on me,
 * because I looked forward to them,

(The time will come, though I stop here to-day and
 * to-night.)