Manhattan Streets I Saunter'd, Pondering


  MANHATTAN'S streets I saunter'd, pondering,
  On time, space, reality--on such as these, and abreast with them,
  prudence.

  After all, the last explanation remains to be made about prudence;
  Little and large alike drop quietly aside from the prudence that
  suits immortality.

  The Soul is of itself;
  All verges to it--all has reference to what ensues;
  All that a person does, says, thinks, is of consequence;
  Not a move can a man or woman make, that affects him or her in a day,
  month, any part of the direct life-time, or the hour of death,
  but the same affects him or her onward afterward through the
  indirect life-time.

  The indirect is just as much as the direct,
  The spirit receives from the body just as much as it gives to the
  body, if not more. 10

  Not one word or deed--not venereal sore, discoloration, privacy of
  the onanist, putridity of gluttons or rum-drinkers, peculation,
  cunning, betrayal, murder, seduction, prostitution, but has
  results beyond death, as really as before death.

  Charity and personal force are the only investments worth anything.

  No specification is necessary--all that a male or female does, that
  is vigorous, benevolent, clean, is so much profit to him or
  her, in the unshakable order of the universe, and through the
  whole scope of it forever.

  Who has been wise, receives interest,
  Savage, felon, President, judge, farmer, sailor, mechanic, literat,
  young, old, it is the same,
  The interest will come round--all will come round.

  Singly, wholly, to affect now, affected their time, will forever
  affect all of the past, and all of the present, and all of the
  future,
  All the brave actions of war and peace,
  All help given to relatives, strangers, the poor, old, sorrowful,
  young children, widows, the sick, and to shunn'd persons,
  All furtherance of fugitives, and of the escape of slaves, 20
  All self-denial that stood steady and aloof on wrecks, and saw others
  fill the seats of the boats,
  All offering of substance or life for the good old cause, or for a
  friend's sake, or opinion's sake,
  All pains of enthusiasts, scoff'd at by their neighbors,
  All the limitless sweet love and precious suffering of mothers,
  All honest men baffled in strifes recorded or unrecorded,
  All the grandeur and good of ancient nations whose fragments we
  inherit,
  All the good of the dozens of ancient nations unknown to us by name,
  date, location,
  All that was ever manfully begun, whether it succeeded or no,
  All suggestions of the divine mind of man, or the divinity of his
  mouth, or the shaping of his great hands;
  All that is well thought or said this day on any part of the globe--
  or on any of the wandering stars, or on any of the fix'd stars,
  by those there as we are here; 30
  All that is henceforth to be thought or done by you, whoever you are,
  or by any one;
  These inure, have inured, shall inure, to the identities from which
  they sprang, or shall spring.

  Did you guess anything lived only its moment?
  The world does not so exist--no parts palpable or impalpable so
  exist;
  No consummation exists without being from some long previous
  consummation--and that from some other,
  Without the farthest conceivable one coming a bit nearer the
  beginning than any.

  Whatever satisfies Souls is true;
  Prudence entirely satisfies the craving and glut of Souls;
  Itself only finally satisfies the Soul;
  The Soul has that measureless pride which revolts from every lesson
  but its own. 40

  Now I give you an inkling;
  Now I breathe the word of the prudence that walks abreast with time,
  space, reality,
  That answers the pride which refuses every lesson but its own.

  What is prudence, is indivisible,
  Declines to separate one part of life from every part,
  Divides not the righteous from the unrighteous, or the living from
  the dead,
  Matches every thought or act by its correlative,
  Knows no possible forgiveness, or deputed atonement,
  Knows that the young man who composedly peril'd his life and lost it,
  has done e
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Walt Whitman

Walter "Walt" Whitman was an American poet, essayist and journalist. more…

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"Manhattan Streets I Saunter'd, Pondering" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 20 Sep. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/38060/manhattan-streets-i-saunter'd,-pondering>.

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