Walt Whitman Poems

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NOT the pilot has charged himself to bring his ship into port, though beaten back, and
many
times
baffled;
Not the path-finder, penetrating inland, weary and long,
By deserts parch’d, snows-chill’d, rivers wet, perseveres till he reaches his
destination,

More than I have charged myself, heeded or unheeded, to compose a free march for These
States,
To be exhilarating music to them—a battle-call, rousing to arms, if need
be—years,
centuries hence. 5

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