AS CONSEQUENT， Etc.
As consequent from store of summer rains，
Or wayward rivulets1 in autumn flowing，
Or many a herb-lined brook's reticulations，
Or subterranean2 sea-rills making for the sea，
Songs of continued years I sing.
Life's ever-modern rapids first， （soon， soon to blend，
With the old streams of death.）
Some threading Ohio's farm-fields or the woods，
Some down Colorado's ca\dt\nons from sources of perpetual snow，
Some half-hid in Oregon， or away southward in Texas，
Some in the north finding their way to Erie， Niagara， Ottawa，
Some to Atlantica's bays， and so to the great salt brine.
In you whoe'er you are my book perusing3，
In I myself， in all the world， these currents flowing，
All， all toward the mystic ocean tending.
Currents for starting a continent new，
Overtures4 sent to the solid out of the liquid，
Fusion5 of ocean and land， tender and pensive6 waves，
（Not safe and peaceful only， waves rous'd and ominous7 too，
Out of the depths the storm's abysmic waves， who knows
whence？
Raging over the vast， with many a broken spar and tatter'd
sail.）
Or from the sea of Time， collecting vasting all， I bring，
A windrow-drift of weeds and shells.
O little shells， so curious-convolute， so limpid-cold and
voiceless，
Will you not little shells to the tympans of temples held，
Murmurs8 and echoes still call up， eternity's music faint and
far，
Wafted9 inland， sent from Atlantica's rim10， strains for the soul
of the prairies，
Whisper'd reverberations， chords for the ear of the West
joyously11 sounding，
Your tidings old， yet ever new and untranslatable，
Infinitesimals out of my life， and many a life，
（For not my life and yours alone I give - all， all I give，）
These waifs from the deep， cast high and dry，
Wash'd on America's shores？
