Poem by Walt Whitman

Leaves of Grass. 1. Inscriptions. 22. Poets to Come

Poets to come! orators, singers, musicians to come!
Not to-day is to justify me and answer what I am for,
But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than
         before known,
Arouse! for you must justify me.

I myself but write one or two indicative words for the future,
I but advance a moment only to wheel and hurry back in the darkness.

I am a man who, sauntering along without fully stopping, turns a
         casual look upon you and then averts his face,
Leaving it to you to prove and define it,
Expecting the main things from you.

1. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 14. Memories
2. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 15. To-Day and Thee
3. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 33. “Going Somewhere”
4. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 43. The Dying Veteran
5. Leaves of Grass. 35. Good-Bye My Fancy. 18. Sounds of the Winter

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