A poem by
Walt Whitman, from his
Leaves of Grass. Written just after the end of the
American Civil War.
=====----
Turn O Libertad, for the war is over,
From it and all henceforth expanding, doubting no more,
resolute, sweeping the world,
Turn from lands retrospective recording proofs of the past,
From the singers that sing the trailing glories of the past,
From the chants of the feudal world, the triumphs of kings,
slavery, caste,
Turn to the world, the triumphs reserv'd and to come - give
up that backward world,
Leave to the singers of hitherto, give them the trailing past,
But what remains remains for singers for you - wars to come
are for you,
(Lo, how the wars of the past have duly inured to you, and
the wars of the present also inure;)
Then turn, and be not alarm'd O Libertad - turn your undying
face,
To where the future, greater than all the past,
Is swiftly, surely preparing for you.