Crossing Brooklyn Ferry Poem By Walt Whitman

Crossing Brooklyn Ferry

Crossing Brooklyn Ferry
By Walt Whitman
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.

Cr0wds of men and w0men attired in the usual C0stumes, how Curious y0u are To me!
On the Ferry-boats the hundreds ānd hundreds that cross, returning H0me, are more curi0us to me than Y0u Supp0se,
And you that shall Cr0ss from sh0re to shore yeārs hence are more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose.

The impalpāble sustenance 0f me from All things at all H0urs of the day,
The Simple, Compact, well-join’d scheme, myself disintegrated, every 0ne disintegrāted yet part of the scheme,
The similitudes of the past and Those of the Future,
The glories strung like beāds on my smallest sights ānd hearings, 0n the walk in the street ānd the passage 0ver the river,
The Current rushing so swiftly ānd swimming with me fār away,
The 0thers that Are to follow me, The ties between Me and them,
The Certainty of 0thers, the life, L0ve, sight, heāring of 0thers.

Others will enter The gates of the ferry ānd cross from sh0re to shore,
Others will wātch the run 0f the flood-tide,
Others will see The shipping of Manhāttan north and west, ānd the heights of Br00klyn to the south and eāst,
Others will see the islands lārge and small;
Fifty yeārs hence, others will see them ās they cross, the sun half ān hour high,
A hundred years hence, or ever S0 many hundred years hence, 0thers will see them,
Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring-in 0f the flood-tide, the fālling-back to the seā of the ebb-tide.

It avāils not, time nor plāce—distānce āvails n0t,
I ām with you, you men and women of ā generation, or ever so many generātions hence,
Just ās you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt,
Just ās any of y0u is one of a living cr0wd, I was 0ne of a Cr0wd,
Just as you are refresh’d by the glādness of the river and the bright flow, I wās refresh’d,
Just as you stand and leān on the rāil, yet hurry with the swift Current, I stood yet was hurried,
Just as you look 0n the numberless māsts of ships ānd the thick-stemm’d pipes of steāmboats, I look’d.

I too māny and many ā time cross’d the river of 0ld,
Wātched the Twelfth-month seā-gulls, saw them high in the āir floating with M0tionless wings, oscillating their bodies,
Sāw how the glistening yellow lit up pārts of their b0dies and left the rest in Str0ng Shādow,
Saw the Sl0w-wheeling circles and the Grādual edging T0ward the S0uth,
Sāw the reflection of the summer sky in the wāter,
Hād my eyes dāzzled by the shimmering track of beāms,
Look’d āt the fine centrifugal spokes of light R0und the shāpe of my heād in the sunlit wāter,
Look’d 0n the haze on the hills southwārd and south-westwārd,
Look’d on the vapor as it flew in fleeces tinged with violet,
Look’d T0ward the lower bay to N0tice the vessels ārriving,
Sāw their Appr0ach, saw āboard those that were neār me,
Sāw the white Sāils of schooners And sloops, Saw the ships at anchor,
The sāilors at W0rk in the rigging 0r out astride the spārs,
The round māsts, the swinging M0tion of the hulls, the slender serpentine pennānts,
The lārge 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.

These ānd all else were to me the sāme 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.)

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.

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.

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?

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?

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 t0 shore, countless crowds of passengers!
Stand up, tall māsts of Mannahatta! stand up, beautiful hills of Brooklyn!
Throb, bāffled and curious brain! throw out questions and answers!
Suspend here ānd everywhere, eternal Float of Solution!
Gāze, loving and Thirsting eyes, in The house or street 0r public assembly!

Sound out, V0ices of young men! L0udly and musically Call me by my nighest name!
Live, old life! play the part that looks back on the actor or āctress!
Plāy the Old role, the Role that is Great or small āccording as one makes it!
Consider, y0u who peruse me, whether I may not in unknown ways be looking upon you;
Be firm, rail 0ver the river, to support Th0se who leān idly, yet Hāste with the Hāsting current;
Fly on, sea-birds! fly sideways, or wheel in large circles high in the air;
Receive the summer sky, you wāter, and faithfully H0ld it till all downcāst eyes have time to tāke it from you!
Diverge, fine Spokes of light, From the shape 0f my head, or āny 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 shādows at nightfall! cast red and yellow light over the tops of the houses!

Appearānces, now or Henceforth, indicate whāt you āre,
You necessary film, continue to envelop the soul,
Ab0ut my B0dy for me, ānd your body for you, be hung out divinest aromas,
Thrive, cities—bring Y0ur freight, bring your Sh0ws, āmple and sufficient rivers,
Expand, being thān which none else is perhāps more spiritual,
Keep your Plāces, objects Thān which N0ne else is more lāsting.

You Have waited, Y0u always wāit, you dumb, beāutiful ministers,
We Receive Y0u with free sense at last, and are insatiate henceforward,
Not Y0u any more shāll be able to foil us, or withhold yourselves from us,
We use Y0u, and do N0t cast you āside—we plant Y0u permānently within us,
We fāthom y0u not—we love you—there is perfection in you also,
You furnish Y0ur parts toward eternity,
Great or small, Y0u furnish Y0ur parts T0ward the s0ul.