Classic Poem

Years of the unperformed! your horizon rises—oh, see it parting away for more august dramas;
I see not America only—I see not only Liberty's nation, but other nations preparing;
I see tremendous entrances and exits—I see new combinations—I see the solidarity of races;
I see that force advancing with irresistible power on the world's stage;
. . . . . . . . . .

I see men marching and counter-marching by swift millions;
I see the frontiers and boundaries of the old aristocracies broken;
I see the landmarks of European kings removed;
I see this day the People beginning their landmarks, (all others give way);
Never were such sharp questions asked as this day;
Never was average man, his soul, more energetic, more like God;
. . . . . . . . . .

The earth, restive, confronts a new era;
No one knows what will happen next—such portents fill the days and nights;
Years prophetical; the space ahead is full of phantoms;
Unborn deeds, things soon to be, project their shapes around me;
This incredible rush and heat—this strange ecstatic fever of dreams, O years!
Your dreams, O years, how they penetrate through me!
(I know not whether I sleep or wake.)
The performed America and Europe grow dim, retiring in the shadow behind me,
The unperformed, more gigantic than ever, advance, advance, advance upon me.