Crossing Brooklyn Ferry - Walt Whitman

Crossing
Brooklyn Ferry

Walt
Whitman, 1819 – 1892

1

Flood-tide
below me! I see you face to face!

Clouds
of the west—sun there half an hour high—I see you also face to face.

Crowds
of men and women attired in the usual costumes, how curious you are to me!

On
the ferry-boats the hundreds and hundreds that cross, returning home, are more
curious to me than you suppose,

And
you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are more to me, and more
in my meditations, than you might suppose.

2

The
impalpable sustenance of me from all things at all hours of the day,

The
simple, compact, well-join’d scheme, myself disintegrated, every one
disintegrated yet part of the scheme,

The
similitudes of the past and those of the future,

The
glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings, on the walk in
the street and the passage over the river,

The
current rushing so swiftly and swimming with me far away,

The
others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them,

The
certainty of others, the life, love, sight, hearing of others.

Others
will enter the gates of the ferry and cross from shore to shore,

Others
will watch the run of the flood-tide,

Others
will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the heights of Brooklyn
to the south and east,

Others
will see the islands large and small;

Fifty
years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half an hour high,

A
hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others will see them,

Will
enjoy the sunset, the pouring-in of the flood-tide, the falling-back to the sea
of the ebb-tide.

3

It
avails not, time nor place—distance avails not,

I am
with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so many generations hence,

Just
as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt,

Just
as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd,

Just
as you are refresh’d by the gladness of the river and the bright flow, I was
refresh’d,

Just
as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current, I stood
yet was hurried,

Just
as you look on the numberless masts of ships and the thick-stemm’d pipes of
steamboats, I look’d.

I
too many and many a time cross’d the river of old,

Watched
the Twelfth-month sea-gulls, saw them high in the air floating with motionless
wings, oscillating their bodies,

Saw
how the glistening yellow lit up parts of their bodies and left the rest in
strong shadow,

Saw
the slow-wheeling circles and the gradual edging toward the south,

Saw
the reflection of the summer sky in the water,

Had
my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams,

Look’d
at the fine centrifugal spokes of light round the shape of my head in the
sunlit water,

Look’d
on the haze on the hills southward and south-westward,

Look’d
on the vapor as it flew in fleeces tinged with violet,

Look’d
toward the lower bay to notice the vessels arriving,

Saw
their approach, saw aboard those that were near me,

Saw
the white sails of schooners and sloops, saw the ships at anchor,

The
sailors at work in the rigging or out astride the spars,

The
round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls, the slender serpentine pennants,

The
large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in their pilot-houses,

The
white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous whirl of the wheels,

The
flags of all nations, the falling of them at sunset,

The
scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled cups, the frolicsome crests and
glistening,

The
stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the gray walls of the granite
storehouses by the docks,

On
the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug closely flank’d on each side by
the barges, the hay-boat, the belated lighter,

On the
neighboring shore the fires from the foundry chimneys burning high and
glaringly into the night,

Casting
their flicker of black contrasted with wild red and yellow light over the tops
of houses, and down into the clefts of streets.

4

These
and all else were to me the same as they are to you,

I
loved well those cities, loved well the stately and rapid river,

The
men and women I saw were all near to me,

Others
the same—others who look back on me because I look’d forward to them,

(The
time will come, though I stop here to-day and to-night.)

5

What
is it then between us?

What
is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us?

Whatever
it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and place avails not,

I
too lived, Brooklyn of ample hills was mine,

I
too walk’d the streets of Manhattan island, and bathed in the waters around it,

I
too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me,

In
the day among crowds of people sometimes they came upon me,

In
my walks home late at night or as I lay in my bed they came upon me,

I
too had been struck from the float forever held in solution,

I
too had receiv’d identity by my body,

That
I was I knew was of my body, and what I should be I knew I should be of my
body.

6

It
is not upon you alone the dark patches fall,

The
dark threw its patches down upon me also,

The
best I had done seem’d to me blank and suspicious,

My
great thoughts as I supposed them, were they not in reality meagre?

Nor
is it you alone who know what it is to be evil,

I am
he who knew what it was to be evil,

I
too knitted the old knot of contrariety,

Blabb’d,
blush’d, resented, lied, stole, grudg’d,

Had
guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak,

Was
wayward, vain, greedy, shallow, sly, cowardly, malignant,

The
wolf, the snake, the hog, not wanting in me,

The
cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous wish, not wanting,

Refusals,
hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, none of these wanting,

Was
one with the rest, the days and haps of the rest,

Was
call’d by my nighest name by clear loud voices of young men as they saw me
approaching or passing,

Felt
their arms on my neck as I stood, or the negligent leaning of their flesh
against me as I sat,

Saw
many I loved in the street or ferry-boat or public assembly, yet never told
them a word,

Lived
the same life with the rest, the same old laughing, gnawing, sleeping,

Play’d
the part that still looks back on the actor or actress,

The
same old role, the role that is what we make it, as great as we like,

Or
as small as we like, or both great and small.

7

Closer
yet I approach you,

What
thought you have of me now, I had as much of you—I laid in my stores in
advance,

I
consider’d long and seriously of you before you were born.

Who
was to know what should come home to me?

Who
knows but I am enjoying this?

Who
knows, for all the distance, but I am as good as looking at you now, for all
you cannot see me?

8

Ah,
what can ever be more stately and admirable to me than mast-hemm’d Manhattan?

River
and sunset and scallop-edg’d waves of flood-tide?

The
sea-gulls oscillating their bodies, the hay-boat in the twilight, and the
belated lighter?

What
gods can exceed these that clasp me by the hand, and with voices I love call me
promptly and loudly by my nighest name as I approach?

What
is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man that looks in my
face?

Which
fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you?

We
understand then do we not?

What
I promis’d without mentioning it, have you not accepted?

What
the study could not teach—what the preaching could not accomplish is
accomplish’d, is it not?

9

Flow
on, river! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb-tide!

Frolic
on, crested and scallop-edg’d waves!

Gorgeous
clouds of the sunset! drench with your splendor me, or the men and women
generations after me!

Cross
from shore to shore, countless crowds of passengers!

Stand
up, tall masts of Mannahatta! stand up, beautiful hills of Brooklyn!

Throb,
baffled and curious brain! throw out questions and answers!

Suspend
here and everywhere, eternal float of solution!

Gaze,
loving and thirsting eyes, in the house or street or public assembly!

Sound
out, voices of young men! loudly and musically call me by my nighest name!

Live,
old life! play the part that looks back on the actor or actress!

Play
the old role, the role that is great or small according as one makes it!

Consider,
you who peruse me, whether I may not in unknown ways be looking upon you;

Be
firm, rail over the river, to support those who lean idly, yet haste with the
hasting current;

Fly
on, sea-birds! fly sideways, or wheel in large circles high in the air;

Receive
the summer sky, you water, and faithfully hold it till all downcast eyes have
time to take it from you!

Diverge,
fine spokes of light, from the shape of my head, or any one’s head, in the
sunlit water!

Come
on, ships from the lower bay! pass up or down, white-sail’d schooners, sloops,
lighters!

Flaunt
away, flags of all nations! be duly lower’d at sunset!

Burn
high your fires, foundry chimneys! cast black shadows at nightfall! cast red
and yellow light over the tops of the houses!

Appearances,
now or henceforth, indicate what you are,

You
necessary film, continue to envelop the soul,

About
my body for me, and your body for you, be hung out divinest aromas,

Thrive,
cities—bring your freight, bring your shows, ample and sufficient rivers,

Expand,
being than which none else is perhaps more spiritual,

Keep
your places, objects than which none else is more lasting.

You
have waited, you always wait, you dumb, beautiful ministers,

We
receive you with free sense at last, and are insatiate henceforward,

Not
you any more shall be able to foil us, or withhold yourselves from us,

We
use you, and do not cast you aside—we plant you permanently within us,

We
fathom you not—we love you—there is perfection in you also,

You
furnish your parts toward eternity,

Great
or small, you furnish your parts toward the soul.