If I should need to name, O Western World, your powerfulest scene and show,
Twould not be you, Niagaranor you, ye limitless prairiesnor your huge rifts of canyons, Colorado,
Nor you, Yosemitenor Yellowstone, with all its spasmic geyserloops ascending to the skies, appearing and disappearing,
Nor Oregons white conesnor Hurons belt of mighty lakesnor Mississippis stream:
This seething hemispheres humanity, as now, Id namethe still small voice vibratingAmericas choosing day,
(The heart of it not in the chosenthe act itself the main, the quadrennial choosing,)
The stretch of North and South arousd-sea-board and inland-Texas to Mainethe Prairie StatesVermont, Virginia, California,
The final ballot-shower from East to Westthe paradox and conflict,
The countless snow-flakes falling(a swordless conflict,
Yet more than all Romes wars of old, or modern Napoleons the peaceful choice of all,
Or good or ill humanitywelcoming the darker odds, the dross:
Foams and ferments the wine? it serves to purifywhile the heart pants, life glows:
These stormy gusts and winds waft precious ships,
Swelld Washingtons, Jeffersons, Lincolns sails.
Election Day, November 1884
written byWalt Whitman
© Walt Whitman