1
OVER the western sea, hither from Niphon come,
Courteous, the swart-cheekd two-sworded envoys,
Leaning back in their open barouches, bare-headed, impassive,
Ride to-day through Manhattan.
Libertad!
I do not know whether others behold what I behold,
In the procession, along with the nobles of Asia, the errand-bearers,
Bringing up the rear, hovering above, around, or in the ranks marching;
But I will sing you a song of what I behold, Libertad.
2
When million-footed Manhattan, unpent, descends to her pavements;
When the thunder-cracking guns arouse me with the proud roar I love;
When the round-mouthd guns, out of the smoke and smell I love, spit their salutes;
When the fire-flashing guns have fully alerted mewhen heaven-clouds canopy my city with a
delicate thin haze;
When, gorgeous, the countless straight stems, the forests at the wharves, thicken with
colors;
When every ship, richly drest, carries her flag at the peak;
When pennants trail, and street-festoons hang from the windows;
When Broadway is entirely given up to foot-passengers and foot-standerswhen the mass is
densest;
When the façades of the houses are alive with peoplewhen eyes gaze, riveted, tens of
thousands
at a time;
When the guests from the islands advancewhen the pageant moves forward, visible;
When the summons is madewhen the answer that waited thousands of years, answers;
I too, arising, answering, descend to the pavements, merge with the crowd, and gaze with
them.
3
Superb-faced Manhattan!
Comrade Americanos!to us, then, at last, the Orient comes.
To us, my city,
Where our tall-topt marble and iron beauties range on opposite sidesto walk in the space
between,
To-day our Antipodes comes.
The Originatress comes,
The nest of languages, the bequeather of poems, the race of eld,
Florid with blood, pensive, rapt with musings, hot with passion,
Sultry with perfume, with ample and flowing garments,
With sunburnt visage, with intense soul and glittering eyes,
The race of Brahma comes!
4
See, my cantabile! these, and more, are flashing to us from the procession;
As it moves, changing, a kaleidoscope divine it moves, changing, before us.
For not the envoys, nor the tannd Japanee from his island only;
Lithe and silent, the Hindoo appearsthe Asiatic continent itself appearsthe Past, the
dead,
The murky night morning of wonder and fable, inscrutable,
The envelopd mysteries, the old and unknown hive-bees,
The Norththe sweltering Southeastern Assyriathe Hebrewsthe Ancient of Ancients,
Vast desolated citiesthe gliding Presentall of these, and more, are in the
pageant-procession.
Geography, the world, is in it;
The Great Sea, the brood of islands, Polynesia, the coast beyond;
The coast you, henceforth, are facingyou Libertad! from your Western golden shores
The countries there, with their populationsthe millions en-masse, are curiously here;
The swarming market placesthe temples, with idols ranged along the sides, or at the
endbonze,
brahmin, and lama;
The mandarin, farmer, merchant, mechanic, and fisherman;
The singing-girl and the dancing-girlthe ecstatic personthe secluded Emperors,
Confucius himselfthe great poets and heroesthe warriors, the castes, all,
Trooping up, crowding from all directionsfrom the Altay mountains,
From Thibetfrom the four winding and far-flowing rivers of China,
From the Southern peninsulas, and the demi-continental islandsfrom Malaysia;
These, and whatever belongs to them, palpable, show forth to me, and are seizd by me,
And I am seizd by them, and friendlily held by them,
Till, as here, them all I chant, Libertad! for themselves and for you.
5
For I too, raising my voice, join the ranks of this pageant;
I am the chanterI chant aloud over the pageant;
I chant the world on my Western Sea;
I chant, copious, the islands beyond, thick as stars in the sky;
I chant the new empire, grander than any beforeAs in a vision it comes to me;
I chant America, the MistressI chant a greater supremacy;
I chant, projected, a thousand blooming cities yet, in time, on those groups of
sea-islands;
I chant my sail-ships and steam-ships threading the archipelagoes;
I chant my stars and stripes fluttering in the wind;
I chant commerce opening, the sleep of ages having done its workraces, reborn, refreshd;
Lives, works, resumedThe object I know notbut the old, the Asiatic, renewd, as it must
be,
Commencing from this day, surrounded by the world.
6
And you, Libertad of the world!
You shall sit in the middle, well-poisd, thousands of years;
As to-day, from one side, the nobles of Asia come to you;
As to-morrow, from the other side, the Queen of England sends her eldest son to you.
7
The sign is reversing, the orb is enclosed,
The ring is circled, the journey is done;
The box-lid is but perceptibly opendnevertheless the perfume pours copiously out of the
whole
box.
8
Young Libertad!
With the venerable Asia, the all-mother,
Be considerate with her, now and ever, hot Libertadfor you are all;
Bend your proud neck to the long-off mother, now sending messages over the archipelagoes
to
you;
Bend your proud neck low for once, young Libertad.
9
Were the children straying westward so long? so wide the tramping?
Were the precedent dim ages debouching westward from Paradise so long?
Were the centuries steadily footing it that way, all the while unknown, for you, for
reasons?
They are justifiedthey are accomplishdthey shall now be turnd the other way also, to
travel toward you thence;
They shall now also march obediently eastward, for your sake, Libertad.
A Broadway Pageant.
written byWalt Whitman
© Walt Whitman