O MAGNET-SOUTH! O glistening, perfumed South! My South! O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse, and love! Good and evil! O all dear to me! O dear to me my birth-thingsâ€”All moving things, and the trees where I was bornâ€”the grains, plants, rivers; Dear to me my own slow sluggish rivers where they flow, distant, over flats of silvery sands, or through swamps; Dear to me the Roanoke, the Savannah, the Altamahaw, the Pedee, the Tombigbee, the Santee, the Coosa, and the Sabine; O pensive, far away wandering, I return with my Soul to haunt their banks again; Again in Florida I float on transparent lakesâ€”I float on the Okeechobeeâ€”I cross the hummock land, or through pleasant openings, or dense forests; I see the parrots in the woodsâ€”I see the papaw tree and the blossoming titi; Again, sailing in my coaster, on deck, I coast off Georgiaâ€”I coast up the Carolinas, I see where the live-oak is growingâ€”I see where the yellow-pine, the scented bay-tree, the lemon and orange, the cypress, the graceful palmetto; I pass rude sea-headlands and enter Pamlico Sound through an inlet, and dart my vision inland; O the cotton plant! the growing fields of rice, sugar, hemp! The cactus, guarded with thornsâ€”the laurel-tree, with large white flowers; The range afarâ€”the richness and barrennessâ€”the old woods charged with mistletoe and trailing moss, The piney odor and the gloomâ€”the awful natural stillness, (Here in these dense swamps the freebooter carries his gun, and the fugitive slave has his concealâ€™d hut;) O the strange fascination of these half-known, half-impassable swamps, infested by reptiles, resounding with the bellow of the alligator, the sad noises of the night-owl and the wild-cat, and the whirr of the rattlesnake; The mocking-bird, the American mimic, singing all the forenoonâ€”singing through the moon-lit night, The humming-bird, the wild turkey, the raccoon, the opossum; A Tennessee corn-fieldâ€”the tall, graceful, long-leavâ€™d cornâ€”slender, flapping, bright green with tasselsâ€”with beautiful ears, each well-sheathâ€™d in its husk; An Arkansas prairieâ€”a sleeping lake, or still bayou; O my heart! O tender and fierce pangsâ€”I can stand them notâ€”I will depart; O to be a Virginian, where I grew up! O to be a Carolinian! O longings irrepressible! O I will go back to old Tennessee, and never wander more!