AS CONSEQUENT， Etc.

    As consequent from store of summer rains，

    Or wayward rivulets¹ in autumn flowing，

    Or many a herb-lined brook's reticulations，

    Or subterranean² sea-rills making for the sea，

    Songs of continued years I sing.

    Life's ever-modern rapids first， （soon， soon to blend，

    With the old streams of death.）

    Some threading Ohio's farm-fields or the woods，

    Some down Colorado's ca\dt\nons from sources of perpetual snow，

    Some half-hid in Oregon， or away southward in Texas，

    Some in the north finding their way to Erie， Niagara， Ottawa，

    Some to Atlantica's bays， and so to the great salt brine.

    In you whoe'er you are my book perusing³，

    In I myself， in all the world， these currents flowing，

    All， all toward the mystic ocean tending.

    Currents for starting a continent new，

    Overtures⁴ sent to the solid out of the liquid，

    Fusion⁵ of ocean and land， tender and pensive⁶ waves，

    （Not safe and peaceful only， waves rous'd and ominous⁷ too，

    Out of the depths the storm's abysmic waves， who knows

    whence？

    Raging over the vast， with many a broken spar and tatter'd

    sail.）

    Or from the sea of Time， collecting vasting all， I bring，

    A windrow-drift of weeds and shells.

    O little shells， so curious-convolute， so limpid-cold and

    voiceless，

    Will you not little shells to the tympans of temples held，

    Murmurs⁸ and echoes still call up， eternity's music faint and

    far，

    Wafted⁹ inland， sent from Atlantica's rim¹⁰， strains for the soul

    of the prairies，

    Whisper'd reverberations， chords for the ear of the West

    joyously¹¹ sounding，

    Your tidings old， yet ever new and untranslatable，

    Infinitesimals out of my life， and many a life，

    （For not my life and yours alone I give - all， all I give，）

    These waifs from the deep， cast high and dry，

    Wash'd on America's shores？