I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won. - Walt Whitman

Battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.

A fitly born and bred race, growing up in right conditions of outdoor as much as indoor harmony, activity and development, would probably, from and in those conditions, find it enough merely to live — and would, in their relations to the sky, air, water, trees, etc., and to the countless common shows, and in the fact of life itself, discover and achieve happiness — with Being suffused night and day by wholesome ecstasy, surpassing all the pleasures that wealth, amusement, and even gratified intellect, erudition, or the sense of art, can give.

America must welcome all — -Chinese, Irish, German, pauper or not, criminal or not — -all, all, without exceptions: become an asylum for all who choose to come. We may have drifted away from this principle temporarily but time will bring us back. … America is not for special types, for the caste, but for the great mass of people — -the vast, surging, hopeful, army of workers. Dare we deny them a home — -close the doors in their face — — take possession of all and fence it in and then sit down satisfied with our system — -convinced that we have solved our problem? I for my part refuse to connect America with such a failure — -such a tragedy, for tragedy it would be.

My respiration and inspiration.... the beating of my
heart....
the passing of blood and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the
shore and
darkcolored sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,
The sound of the belched words of my voice....
words loosed to
the eddies of the wind,
A few light kisses.... a few embraces.... a reaching
around of
arms,
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the
supple boughs
wag,
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or
along the fields
and hillsides,
The feeling of health.... the full-noon trill.... the song
of me
rising from bed and meeting the sun.
Have you reckoned a thousand acres much? Have
you reckoned
the earth much?
Have you practiced so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of
poems?