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ALWAYS our old feuillage!
Always Florida's green peninsula - always the priceless delta1 of Louisiana - always the cotton-fields of Alabama and Texas, Always California's golden hills and hollows, and the silver mountains of New Mexico - always soft-breath'd Cuba, Always the vast slope drain'd by the Southern sea, inseparable with the slopes drain'd by the Eastern and Western seas, The area the eighty-third year of these States, the three and a half millions of square miles, The eighteen thousand miles of sea-coast and bay-coast on the main, the thirty thousand miles of river navigation, The seven millions of distinct families and the same number of dwellings2 - always these, and more, branching forth3 into numberless branches, Always the free range and diversity - always the continent of Democracy; Always the prairies, pastures, forests, vast cities, travelers, Kanada, the snows; Always these compact lands tied at the hips4 with the belt stringing the huge oval lakes; Always the West with strong native persons, the increasing density5 there, the habitans, friendly, threatening, ironical6, scorning invaders7; All sights, South, North, East - all deeds promiscuously8 done at all times, All characters, movements, growths, a few noticed, myriads9 unnoticed, Through Mannahatta's streets I walking, these things gathering10, On interior rivers by night in the glare of pine knots, steam-boats wooding up, Sunlight by day on the valley of the Susquehanna, and on the valleys of the Potomac and Rappahannock, and the valleys of the Roanoke and Delaware, In their northerly wilds beasts of prey11 haunting the Adirondacks the hills, or lapping the Saginaw waters to drink, In a lonesome inlet a sheldrake lost from the flock, sitting on the water rocking silently, In farmers' barns oxen in the stable, their harvest labor12 done, they rest standing13, they are too tired, Afar on arctic ice the she-walrus lying drowsily14 while her cubs15 play around, The hawk16 sailing where men have not yet sail'd, the farthest polar sea, ripply17, crystalline, open, beyond the floes, White drift spooning ahead where the ship in the tempest dashes, On solid land what is done in cities as the bells strike midnight together, In primitive18 woods the sounds there also sounding, the howl of the wolf, the scream of the panther, and the hoarse19 bellow20 of the elk21, In winter beneath the hard blue ice of Moosehead lake, in summer visible through the clear waters, the great trout22 swimming, In lower latitudes23 in warmer air in the Carolinas the large black buzzard floating slowly high beyond the tree tops, Below, the red cedar24 festoon'd with tylandria, the pines and cypresses25 growing out of the white sand that spreads far and flat, Rude boats descending26 the big Pedee, climbing plants, parasites27 with color'd flowers and berries enveloping28 huge trees, The waving drapery on the live-oak trailing long and low, noiselessly waved by the wind, The camp of Georgia wagoners just after dark, the supperfires and the cooking and eating by whites and negroes, Thirty or forty great wagons29, the mules30, cattle, horses, feeding from troughs, The shadows, gleams, up under the leaves of the old sycamore-trees, the flames with the black smoke from the pitch-pine curling and rising; Southern fishermen fishing, the sounds and inlets of North Carolina's coast, the shad-fishery and the herring-fishery, the large sweep-seines, the windlasses on shore work'd by horses, the clearing, curing, and packing-houses; Deep in the forest in piney woods turpentine dropping from the incisions31 in the trees, there are the turpentine works, There are the negroes at work in good health, the ground in all directions is cover'd with pine straw; In Tennessee and Kentucky slaves busy in the coalings, at the forge, by the furnace-blaze, or at the corn-shucking, In Virginia, the planter's son returning after a long absence, joyfully32 welcom'd and kiss'd by the aged33 mulatto nurse, On rivers boatmen safely moor'd at nightfall in their boats under shelter of high banks, Some of the younger men dance to the sound of the banjo or fiddle34, others sit on the gunwale smoking and talking; Late in the afternoon the mocking-bird, the American mimic35, singing There are the greenish waters, the resinous37 odor, the plenteous moss38, the cypress-tree, and the juniper-tree; Northward39, young men of Mannahatta, the target company from an excursion returning home at evening, the musket-muzzles all bear bunches of flowers presented by women; Children at play, or on his father's lap a young boy fallen asleep, (how his lips move! how he smiles in his sleep!) The scout riding on horseback over the plains west of the Mississippi, he ascends a knoll and sweeps his eyes around; California life, the miner, bearded, dress'd in his rude costume, the stanch California friendship, the sweet air, the graves one in passing meets solitary just aside the horse-path; Down in Texas the cotton-field, the negro-cabins, drivers driving mules or oxen before rude carts, cotton bales piled on banks and wharves; Encircling all, vast-darting up and wide, the American Soul, with equal hemispheres, one Love, one Dilation or Pride; In arriere the peace- talk with the Iroquois the aborigines, the calumet, the pipe of good-will, arbitration, and indorsement, 点击收听单词发音
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