STARTING from fish-shape Paumanok, where I was born, | |
Well-begotten, and rais’d by a perfect mother; | |
After roaming many lands—lover of populous pavements; | |
Dweller in Mannahatta, my city—or on southern savannas; | |
Or a soldier camp’d, or carrying my knapsack and gun—or a miner in California; | 5 |
Or rude in my home in Dakota’s woods, my diet meat, my drink from the spring; | |
Or withdrawn to muse and meditate in some deep recess, | |
Far from the clank of crowds, intervals passing, rapt and happy; | |
Aware of the fresh free giver, the flowing Missouri—aware of mighty Niagara; | |
Aware of the buffalo herds, grazing the plains—the hirsute and strong-breasted bull; | 10 |
Of earth, rocks, Fifth-month flowers, experienced—stars, rain, snow, my amaze; | |
Having studied the mocking-bird’s tones, and the mountainhawk’s, | |
And heard at dusk the unrival’d one, the hermit thrush from the swamp-cedars, | |
Solitary, singing in the West, I strike up for a New World. |
Y yo iba en el metro y empiezo el libro y esto es lo primero que aparece y weón.
Se me salió una lagrimita cuando llegué al
I STRIKE UP FOR A NEW WORLD