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Poem	O SUN of real peace! O hastening light! O free and extatic! O what I here, preparing, warble for! O the sun of the world will ascend, dazzling, and take his height—and you too, O my Ideal, will surely ascend! O so amazing and broad—up there resplendent, darting and burning! O vision prophetic, stagger’d with weight of light! with pouring glories! O lips of my soul, already becoming powerless! O ample and grand Presidentiads! Now the war, the war is over! New history! new heroes! I project you! Visions of poets! only you really last! sweep on! sweep on! O heights too swift and dizzy yet! O purged and luminous! you threaten me more than I can stand! (I must not venture—the ground under my feet menaces me—it will not support me: O future too immense,)—O present, I return, while yet I may, to you.
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