Now list to my morning's romanza;
To the cities and farms I sing, as they spread in the sunshine before me.
2.
A young man came to me bearing a message from his brother;
How should the young man know the whether and when of his brother?
Tell him to send me the signs.
And I stood before the young man face to face, and took his right hand in
my left hand, and his left hand in my right hand,
And I answered for his brother, and for men, and I answered for THE POET,
and sent these signs.
Him all wait for—him all yield up to—his word is decisive and final,
Him they accept, in him lave, in him perceive themselves, as amid light,
Him they immerse, and he immerses them.
Beautiful women, the haughtiest nations, laws, the landscape, people,
animals,
The profound earth and its attributes, and the unquiet ocean (so tell I my
morning's romanza),
All enjoyments and properties, and money, and whatever money will buy,
The best farms—others toiling and planting, and he unavoidably reaps,
The noblest and costliest cities—others grading and building, and he
domiciles there,
Nothing for any one but what is for him—near and far are for him,—the
ships in the offing,
The perpetual shows and marches on land, are for him, if they are for
anybody.
He puts things in their attitudes; He puts to-day out of himself, with plasticity and love; He places his own city, times, reminiscences, parents, brothers and sisters, associations, employment, politics, so that the rest never shame them afterward, nor assume to command them.
He is the answerer; What can be answered he answers—and what cannot be answered, he shows how it cannot be answered.
3.
A man is a summons and challenge; (It is vain to skulk—Do you hear that mocking and laughter? Do you hear the ironical echoes?)