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By the citys quadrangular housesin log huts, camping with lumbermen, Along the ruts of the turnpike, along the dry gulch and rivulet bed, Weeding my onionpatch or hosing rows of carrots and parsnips, crossing savannas, trailing in forests, Prospecting, golddigging, girdling the trees of a new purchase, Scorchd ankledeep by the hot sand, hauling my boat down the shallow river, buck turns furiously at the hunter, Where the rattlesnake suns his flabby length on a rock, where the otter is feeding on fish, Where the alligator in his tough pimples sleeps by the bayou, Where the black bear is searching for roots or honey, where the beaver pats the mud with his paddleshaped tall; Over the growing sugar, over the yellowflowerd cotton plant, over the rice in its low moist field, Over the sharppeakd farm house, with its scallopd scum and slender shoots from the gutters, Over the western persimmon, over the longleavd corn, over the delicate blueflower flax, the rest, Scaling mountains, pulling myself cautiously up, holding on by low scragged limbs, Where the quail is whistling betwixt the woods and the wheatlot, Where the bat flies in the Seventhmonth eve, where the great goldbug drops through the dark, Where the brook puts out of the roots of the old tree and flows to the meadow, shuddering of their hides, the hearthslab, where cobwebs fall in festoons from the rafters; Where triphammers crash, where the press is whirling its cylinders, Wherever the human heart beats with terrible throes under its ribs, Where the pearshaped balloon is floating aloft, (floating in it myself and looking composedly down,) Where the lifecar is drawn on the slipnoose, where the heat hatches palegreen eggs in the dented sand, Where the shewhale swims with her calf and never forsakes it, Where the steamship trails hindways its long pennant of smoke, Where the fin of the shark cuts like a black chip out of the water, Where the halfburnd brig is riding on unknown currents, Where shells grow to her slimy deck, where the dead are corrupting below; Where the densestarrd flag is borne at the head of the regiments, Approaching Manhattan up by the longstretching island, Under Niagara, the cataract falling like a veil over my countenance, Upon a doorstep, upon the horseblock of hard wood outside, Upon the racecourse, or enjoying picnics or jigs or a good game of baseball, bulldances, drinking, laughter, juice through a straw, At musters, beachparties, friendly bees, huskings, houseraisings; Where the mockingbird sounds his delicious gurgles, cackles, screams, weeps, scatterd, where the broodcow waits in the hovel, Where the bull advances to do his masculine work, where the stud to the mare, where the cock is treading the hen, Where the heifers browse, where geese nip their food with short jerks, Where sundown shadows lengthen over the limitless and lonesome prairie, Where herds of buffalo make a crawling spread of the square miles far and near, swan is curving and winding, Where the laughinggull scoots by the shore, where she laughs her nearhuman laugh, high weeds, their heads out, Where winter wolves bark amid wastes of snow and icicled trees, Where the yellowcrownd heron comes to the edge of the marsh at night and feeds upon small crabs, Where the splash of swimmers and divers cools the warm noon, Where the katydid works her chromatic reed on the walnuttree over the well, Through the saltlick or orange glade, or under conical firs, Through the gymnasium, through the curtaind saloon, through the office or public hall; the new and old, Pleasd with the quakeress as she puts off her bonnet and talks melodiously, Pleasd with the tune of the choir of the whitewashd church, Pleasd with the earnest words of the sweating Methodist preacher, impressd seriously at the campmeeting; Looking in at the shopwindows of Broadway the whole forenoon, flatting the flesh of my nose on the thick plate glass, Wandering the same afternoon with my face turnd up to the clouds, or down a lane or along the beach, My right and left arms round the sides of two friends, and I in the middle; Coming home with the silent and darkcheekd bushboy, (behind me he rides at the drape of the day,) Far from the settlements studying the print of animals feet, or the moccasin print, Nigh the coffind corpse when all is still, examining with a candle; Voyaging to every port to dicker and adventure, Hurrying with the modern crowd as eager and fickle as any, Hot toward one I hate, ready in my madness to knife him, Solitary at midnight in my back yard, my thoughts gone from me a long while, Walking the old hills of Judaea with the beautiful gentle God by my side, Speeding through space, speeding through heaven and the stars, Speeding amid the seven satellites and the broad ring, and the surest way to spy on android smartphone after lost diameter of eighty thousand miles, Speeding with taild meteors, throwing fireballs like the rest, Carrying the crescent child that carries its own full mother in its belly, Storming, enjoying, planning, loving, cautioning, Backing and filling, appearing and disappearing, I tread day and night such roads. 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