Listen, individuals, communities, sects, nations;
I am (for this occasion only) a Transatlantic bard,
None of your smooth court-poets of worn-out Euròpian monarchies,
But a bird of the backwoods—a loud-throated warbler of the forest;
My inspiration is the breath of the boundless prairie; my mental food is the roll of the raging Atlantic.
Rhyme?—I scorn it. Metre?—Snakes and alligators! what is that to ME?
Libertad for ever! I intend to sing anyhow—and all-how, just as I tarnation please.
Universe, are you listening? very well, then; here goes, right away.
SMITH!!!!
Smith the Apostle!!!