Song of the Exposition

       1
  (Ah little recks the laborer,
  How near his work is holding him to God,
  The loving Laborer through space and time.)

  After all not to create only, or found only,
  But to bring perhaps from afar what is already founded,
  To give it our own identity, average, limitless, free,
  To fill the gross the torpid bulk with vital religious fire,
  Not to repel or destroy so much as accept, fuse, rehabilitate,
  To obey as well as command, to follow more than to lead,
  These also are the lessons of our New World;
  While how little the New after all, how much the Old, Old World!

  Long and long has the grass been growing,
  Long and long has the rain been falling,
  Long has the globe been rolling round.

       2
  Come Muse migrate from Greece and Ionia,
  Cross out please those immensely overpaid accounts,
  That matter of Troy and Achilles' wrath, and AEneas', Odysseus' wanderings,
  Placard "Removed" and "To Let" on the rocks of your snowy Parnassus,
  Repeat at Jerusalem, place the notice high on jaffa's gate and on
      Mount Moriah,
  The same on the walls of your German, French and Spanish castles,
      and Italian collections,
  For know a better, fresher, busier sphere, a wide, untried domain
      awaits, demands you.

       3
  Responsive to our summons,
  Or rather to her long-nurs'd inclination,
  Join'd with an irresistible, natural gravitation,
  She comes! I hear the rustling of her gown,
  I scent the odor of her breath's delicious fragrance,
  I mark her step divine, her curious eyes a-turning, rolling,
  Upon this very scene.

  The dame of dames! can I believe then,
  Those ancient temples, sculptures classic, could none of them retain her?
  Nor shades of Virgil and Dante, nor myriad memories, poems, old
      associations, magnetize and hold on to her?
  But that she's left them all—and here?

  Yes, if you will allow me to say so,
  I, my friends, if you do not, can plainly see her,
  The same undying soul of earth's, activity's, beauty's, heroism's
      expression,
  Out from her evolutions hither come, ended the strata of her former themes,
  Hidden and cover'd by to-day's, foundation of to-day's,
  Ended, deceas'd through time, her voice by Castaly's fountain,
  Silent the broken-lipp'd Sphynx in Egypt, silent all those century-
      baffling tombs,
  Ended for aye the epics of Asia's, Europe's helmeted warriors, ended
      the primitive call of the muses,
  Calliope's call forever closed, Clio, Melpomene, Thalia dead,
  Ended the stately rhythmus of Una and Oriana, ended the quest of the
      holy Graal,
  Jerusalem a handful of ashes blown by the wind, extinct,
  The Crusaders' streams of shadowy midnight troops sped with the sunrise,
  Amadis, Tancred, utterly gone, Charlemagne, Roland, Oliver gone,
  Palmerin, ogre, departed, vanish'd the turrets that Usk from its
      waters reflected,
  Arthur vanish'd with all his knights, Merlin and Lancelot and
      Galahad, all gone, dissolv'd utterly like an exhalation;
  Pass'd! pass'd! for us, forever pass'd, that once so mighty world,
      now void, inanimate, phantom world,
  Embroider'd, dazzling, foreign world, with all its gorgeous legends, myths,
  Its kings and castles proud, its priests and warlike lords and
      courtly dames,
  Pass'd to its charnel vault, coffin'd with crown and armor on,
  Blazon'd with Shakspere's purple page,
  And dirged by Tennyson's sweet sad rhyme.

  I say I see, my friends, if you do not, the illustrious emigre, (having it
      is true in her day, although the same, changed, journey'd considerable,)
  Making directly for this rendezvous, vigorously clearing a path for
      herself, striding through the confusion,
  By thud of machinery and shrill steam-whistle undismay'd,
  Bluff'd not a bit by drain-pipe, gasometers, artificial fertilizers,
  Smiling and pleas'd with palpable intent to stay,
  She's here, install'd amid the kitchen ware!

       4
  But hold—don't I forget my manners?
  To introduce the stranger, (what else indeed do I live to chant
      for?) to thee Columbia;
  In liberty's name welcome immortal! clasp hands,
  And ever henceforth sisters dear be both.

  Fear not O Muse! truly new ways and days receive, surround you,
  I candidly confess a queer, queer race, of novel fashion,
  And yet the same old human race, the same within, without,
  Faces and hearts the same, feelings the same, yearnings the same,
  The same old love, beauty and use the same.

       5
  We do not blame thee elder World, nor really separate ourselves from thee,
  (Would the son separate himself from the father?)
  Looking back on thee, seeing thee to thy duties, grandeurs, through
      past ages bending, building,
  We build to ours to-day.

  Mightier than Egypt's tombs,
  Fairer than Grecia's, Roma's temples,
  Prouder than Milan's statued, spired cathedral,
  More picturesque than Rhenish castle-keeps,
  We plan even now to raise, beyond them all,
  Thy great cathedral sacred industry, no tomb,
  A keep for life for practical invention.

  As in a waking vision,
  E'en while I chant I see it rise, I scan and prophesy outside and in,
  Its manifold ensemble.

  Around a palace, loftier, fairer, ampler than any yet,
  Earth's modern wonder, history's seven outstripping,
  High rising tier on tier with glass and iron facades,
  Gladdening the sun and sky, enhued in cheerfulest hues,
  Bronze, lilac, robin's-egg, marine and crimson,
  Over whose golden roof shall flaunt, beneath thy banner Freedom,
  The banners of the States and flags of every land,
  A brood of lofty, fair, but lesser palaces shall cluster.

  Somewhere within their walls shall all that forwards perfect human
      life be started,
  Tried, taught, advanced, visibly exhibited.

  Not only all the world of works, trade, products,
  But all the workmen of the world here to be represented.

  Here shall you trace in flowing operation,
  In every state of practical, busy movement, the rills of civilization,
  Materials here under your eye shall change their shape as if by magic,
  The cotton shall be pick'd almost in the very field,
  Shall be dried, clean'd, ginn'd, baled, spun into thread and cloth
      before you,
  You shall see hands at work at all the old processes and all the new ones,
  You shall see the various grains and how flour is made and then
      bread baked by the bakers,
  You shall see the crude ores of California and Nevada passing on and
      on till they become bullion,
  You shall watch how the printer sets type, and learn what a
      composing-stick is,
  You shall mark in amazement the Hoe press whirling its cylinders,
      shedding the printed leaves steady and fast,
  The photograph, model, watch, pin, nail, shall be created before you.

  In large calm halls, a stately museum shall teach you the infinite
      lessons of minerals,
  In another, woods, plants, vegetation shall be illustrated—in
      another animals, animal life and development.

  One stately house shall be the music house,
  Others for other arts—learning, the sciences, shall all be here,
  None shall be slighted, none but shall here be honor'd, help'd, exampled.

       6
  (This, this and these, America, shall be your pyramids and obelisks,
  Your Alexandrian Pharos, gardens of Babylon,
  Your tem............