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In the name of these States and in your and my name, the Past,

And in the name of these States and in your and my name, the Present time.

I know that the past was great and the future will be great,

And I know that both curiously conjoint in the present time,

(For the sake of him I typify, for the common average man's sake, your sake if you are he,)

And that where I am or you are this present day, there is the centre of all days, all races,

And there is the meaning to us of all that has ever come of races and days, or ever will come. 



the Western sea hither from Niphon come,

Courteous, the swart-cheek'd two-sworded envoys,

Leaning back in their open barouches, bare-headed, impassive,

Ride to-day through Manhattan.

Libertad! I do not know whether others behold what I behold,

In the procession along with the nobles of Niphon, the errand-bearers,

Bringing up the rear, hovering above, around, or in the ranks marching,

But I will sing you a song of what I behold Libertad.

When million-footed Manhattan unpent descends to her pavements,

When the thunder-cracking guns arouse me with the proud roar I love,

When the round-mouth'd guns out of the smoke and smell I love spit their salutes,

When the fire-flashing guns have fully alerted me, and heaven-clouds canopy my city with a deHcate thin haze,

When gorgeous the countless straight stems, the forests at the wharves, thicken with colors,

When every ship richly drest carries her flag at the peak,

When pennants trail and street-festoons hang from the windows, 