Part 22 (1/2)

O the horseman's and horsewoman's joys!

The saddle, the gallop, the pressure upon the seat, the cool gurgling by the ears and hair.

O the fireman's joys!

I hear the alarm at dead of night, I hear bells, shouts! I pa.s.s the crowd, I run!

The sight of the flames maddens me with pleasure.

O the joy of the strong-brawn'd fighter, towering in the arena in perfect condition, conscious of power, thirsting to meet his opponent.

O the joy of that vast elemental sympathy which only the human soul is capable of generating and emitting in steady and limitless floods.

O the mother's joys!

The watching, the endurance, the precious love, the anguish, the patiently yielded life.

O the of increase, growth, recuperation, The joy of soothing and pacifying, the joy of concord and harmony.

O to go back to the place where I was born, To hear the birds sing once more, To ramble about the house and barn and over the fields once more, And through the orchard and along the old lanes once more.

O to have been brought up on bays, lagoons, creeks, or along the coast, To continue and be employ'd there all my life, The briny and damp smell, the sh.o.r.e, the salt weeds exposed at low water, The work of fishermen, the work of the eel-fisher and clam-fisher; I come with my clam-rake and spade, I come with my eel-spear, Is the tide out? I Join the group of clam-diggers on the flats, I laugh and work with them, I joke at my work like a mettlesome young man; In winter I take my eel-basket and eel-spear and travel out on foot on the ice-I have a small axe to cut holes in the ice, Behold me well-clothed going gayly or returning in the afternoon, my brood of tough boys accompanying me, My brood of grown and part-grown boys, who love to be with no one else so well as they love to be with me, By day to work with me, and by night to sleep with me.

Another time in warm weather out in a boat, to lift the lobster-pots where they are sunk with heavy stones, (I know the buoys,) O the sweetness of the Fifth-month morning upon the water as I row just before sunrise toward the buoys, I pull the wicker pots up slantingly, the dark green lobsters are desperate with their claws as I take them out, I insert wooden pegs in the 'oints of their pincers,

I go to all the places one after another, and then row back to the sh.o.r.e, There in a huge kettle of boiling water the lobsters shall be boil'd till their color becomes scarlet.

Another time mackerel-taking, Voracious, mad for the hook, near the surface, they seem to fill the water for miles; Another time fis.h.i.+ng for rock-fish in Chesapeake bay, I one of the brown-faced crew; Another time trailing for blue-fish off Paumanok, I stand with braced body, My left foot is on the gunwale, my right arm throws far out the coils of slender rope, In sight around me the quick veering and darting of fifty skiffs, my companions.

O boating on the rivers, The voyage down the St. Lawrence, the superb scenery, the steamers, The s.h.i.+ps sailing, the Thousand Islands, the occasional timber-raft and the raftsmen with long-reaching sweep-oars, The little huts on the rafts, and the stream of smoke when they cook supper at evening.

(O something pernicious and dread!

Something far away from a puny and pious life!

Something unproved! something in a trance!

Something escaped from the anchorage and driving free.)

O to work in mines, or forging iron, Foundry casting, the foundry itself, the rude high roof, the ample and shadow'd s.p.a.ce, The furnace, the hot liquid pour'd out and running.

O to resume the joys of the soldier!

To feel the presence of a brave commanding officer-to feel his sympathy!

To behold his calmness-to be warm'd in the rays of his smile!

To go to battle-to hear the bugles play and the drums beat!

To hear the crash of artillery-to see the glittering of the bayonets and musket-barrels in the sun!

To see men fall and die and not complain!

To taste the savage taste of blood-to be so devilis.h.!.+

To gloat so over the wounds and deaths of the enemy.

O the whaleman's joys! O I cruise my old cruise again!

I feel the s.h.i.+p's motion under me, I feel the Atlantic breezes fanning me, I hear the cry again sent down from the mast-head, There-she blows!

Again I spring up the rigging to look with the rest-we descend, wild with excitement, I leap in the lower'd boat, we row toward our prey where he lies, We approach stealthy and silent, I see the mountainous ma.s.s, lethargic, basking, I see the harpooneer standing up, I see the weapon dart from his vigorous arm; O swift again far out in the ocean the wounded whale, settling, running to windward, tows me, Again I see him rise to breathe, we row close again, I see a lance driven through his side, press'd deep, turn'd in the wound, Again we back off, I see him settle again, the life is leaving him fast, As he rises he spouts blood, I see him swim in circles narrower and narrower, swiftly cutting the water-I see him die, He gives one convulsive leap in the centre of the circle, and then falls flat and still in the b.l.o.o.d.y foam.

O the old manhood of me, my n.o.blest joy of all!

My children and grand-children, my white hair and beard, My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long stretch of my life.

O ripen'd joy of womanhood! O happiness at last!