Page:Leaves of Grass (1860).djvu/433

Rh the pilot has charged himself to bring his ship
 * into port, though beaten back, and many times
 * baffled,

Not the path-finder, penetrating inland, weary and
 * long,

By deserts parched, snows chilled, rivers wet,
 * perseveres till he reaches his destination,

More than I have charged myself, heeded or
 * unheeded, to compose a free march for These
 * States,

To be exhilarating music to them, years, centuries
 * hence.



I was not alone, walking here by the shore, But the one I thought was with me, as now I walk by
 * the shore,

As I lean and look through the glimmering light—
 * that one has utterly disappeared,

And those appear that perplex me.