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Leaves of Grass.

I hear the Hindoo teaching his favorite pupil the
loves, wars, adages, transmitted safely to this
day from poets who wrote three thousand years
ago.

6.What do you see, Walt Whitman?
Who are they who salute, and that one after another
salute you?

7.I see a great round wonder rolling through the air,
I see diminute farms, hamlets, ruins, grave-yards, jails,
factories, palaces, hovels, huts of barbarians, tents
of nomads, upon the surface,
I see the shaded part on one side, where the sleepers
are sleeping—and the sun-lit part on the other
side,
I see the curious silent change of the light and shade,
I see distant lands, as real and near to the inhabitants
of them, as my land is to me.

8.I see plenteous waters,
I see mountain peaks—I see the sierras of Andes and
Alleghanies, where they range,
I see plainly the Himmalehs, Chian Shahs, Altays,
Gauts,
I see the Rocky Mountains, and the Peak of Winds,
I see the Styrian Alps, and the Karnac Alps,
I see the Pyrenees, Balks, Carpathians—and to the
north the Dofrafields, and off at sea Mount Hecla,
I see Vesuvius and Etna—I see the Anahuacs,
I see the Mountains of the Moon, and the Snow Mountains,
and the Red Mountains of Madagascar,
I see the Vermont hills, and the long string of Cordilleras;