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62. These! These, my voice announcing—I will sleep
no more, but arise;
You oceans that have been calm within me! how
I feel you, fathomless, stirring, preparing
unprecedented waves and storms.

63. See! steamers steaming through my poems!
See, in my poems immigrants continually coming
and landing;
See, in arriere, the wigwam, the trail, the hunter's
hut, the flat-boat, the maize-leaf, the claim, the
rude fence, and the backwoods village;
See, on the one side the Western Sea, and on the
other side the Eastern Sea, how they advance
and retreat upon my poems, as upon their own
shores;
See, pastures and forests in my poems—See, animals,
wild and tame—See, beyond the Kanzas, countless
herds of buffalo, feeding on short curly
grass;
See, in my poems, old and new cities, solid, vast,
inland, with paved streets, with iron and stone
edifices, and ceaseless vehicles, and commerce;
See the populace, millions upon millions, handsome,
tall, muscular, both sexes, clothed in easy and
dignified clothes—teaching, commanding, marrying,
generating, equally electing and elective;
See, the many-cylinder'd steam printing-press—See,
the electric telegraph—See, the strong and
quick locomotive, as it departs, panting, blowing
the steam-whistle;
See, ploughmen, ploughing farms—See, miners,
digging mines—See, the numberless factories;