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Poets to come! Orators, singers, musicians to come!
Not to-day is to justify me and answer what i am for,
But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than
Before known,
Arouse! For you must justify me.
I myself but write one or two indicative words for the future,
I but advance a moment only to wheel and hurry back in the darkness.
I am a man who, sauntering along without fully stopping, turns a
Casual look upon you and then averts his face,
Leaving it to you to prove and define it,
Expecting the main things from you.