1 OUT from behind this bending, rough-cut Mask, (All straighter, liker Masks rejectedâ€”this preferrâ€™d,) This common curtain of the face, containâ€™d in me for me, in you for you, in each for each,
(Tragedies, sorrows, laughter, tearsâ€”O heaven! The passionate, teeming plays this curtain hid!) This glaze of Godâ€™s serenest, purest sky, This film of Satanâ€™s seething pit, This heartâ€™s geographyâ€™s mapâ€”this limitless small continentâ€”this soundless sea; Out from the convolutions of this globe, This subtler astronomic orb than sun or moonâ€”than Jupiter, Venus, Mars; This condensation of the Universeâ€”(nay, here the only Universe, Here the IDEAâ€”all in this mystic handful wrapt;) These burinâ€™d eyes, flashing to you, to pass to future time, To launch and spin through space revolving, sidelingâ€”from these to emanate, To You, whoeâ€™er you areâ€”a Look.
2 A Traveler of thoughts and yearsâ€”of peace and war, Of youth long sped, and middle age declining, (As the first volume of a tale perused and laid away, and this the second, Songs, ventures, speculations, presently to close,) Lingering a moment, here and now, to You I opposite turn, As on the road, or at some crevice door, by chance, or openâ€™d window, Pausing, inclining, baring my head, You specially I greet, To draw and clench your Soul, for once, inseparably with mine, Then travel, travel on.