There was a Child went Forth

6The early lilacs became part of this child,

7And grass, and white and red morning-glories, and white and red clover, and the song of

8 the

9 phoebe-bird,

10And the Third-month lambs, and the sow’s pink-faint litter, and the mare’s foal,

11 and

12 the

13 cow’s calf,

14And the noisy brood of the barn-yard, or by the mire of the pond-side,

15And the fish suspending themselves so curiously below there—and the beautiful curious

16 liquid,

17And the water-plants with their graceful flat heads—all became part of him.

18The field-sprouts of Fourth-month and Fifth-month became part of him;

19Winter-grain sprouts, and those of the light-yellow corn, and the esculent roots of the

20 garden,

21And the apple-trees cover’d with blossoms, and the fruit afterward, and wood-berries,

22 and

23 the

24 commonest weeds by the road;

25And the old drunkard staggering home from the out-house of the tavern, whence he had

26 lately

27 risen,

28And the school-mistress that pass’d on her way to the school,

29And the friendly boys that pass’d—and the quarrelsome boys,

30And the tidy and fresh-cheek’d girls—and the barefoot negro boy and girl,

31And all the changes of city and country, wherever he went.

32His own parents,

33He that had father’d him, and she that had conceiv’d him in her womb, and

34 birth’d

35 him,

36They gave this child more of themselves than that;

37They gave him afterward every day—they became part of him.

38The mother at home, quietly placing the dishes on the supper-table;

39The mother with mild words—clean her cap and gown, a wholesome odor falling off her

40 person

41 and

42 clothes as she walks by;

43The father, strong, self-sufficient, manly, mean, anger’d, unjust;

44The blow, the quick loud word, the tight bargain, the crafty lure,

45The family usages, the language, the company, the furniture—the yearning and swelling

46 heart,

47Affection that will not be gainsay’d—the sense of what is real—the thought

48 if,

49 after

50 all, it should prove unreal,

51The doubts of day-time and the doubts of night-time—the curious whether and how,

52Whether that which appears so is so, or is it all flashes and specks?

53Men and women crowding fast in the streets—if they are not flashes and specks, what

54 are

55 they?

56The streets themselves, and the façades of houses, and goods in the windows,

57Vehicles, teams, the heavy-plank’d wharves—the huge crossing at the ferries,

58The village on the highland, seen from afar at sunset—the river between,

59Shadows, aureola and mist, the light falling on roofs and gables of white or brown, three

60 miles

61 off,

62The schooner near by, sleepily dropping down the tide—the little boat

63 slack-tow’d

64 astern,

65The hurrying tumbling waves, quick-broken crests, slapping,

66The strata of color’d clouds, the long bar of maroon-tint, away solitary by

67 itself—the

68 spread of purity it lies motionless in,

69The horizon’s edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance of salt marsh and shore mud;

70These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes, and will

71 always go

72 forth

73 every day.