OUT from behind this bending, rough-cut Mask,
 (All straighter, liker Masks rejected--this preferr'd,)
 This common curtain of the face, contain'd in me for me, in you for
 you, in each for each,
 (Tragedies, sorrows, laughter, tears--O heaven!
 The passionate, teeming plays this curtain hid!)
 This glaze of God's serenest, purest sky,
 This film of Satan's seething pit,
 This heart's geography's map--this limitless small continent--this
 soundless sea;
 Out from the convolutions of this globe,
 This subtler astronomic orb than sun or moon--than Jupiter, Venus,
 Mars; 10
 This condensation of the Universe--(nay, here the only Universe,
 Here the IDEA--all in this mystic handful wrapt;)
 These burin'd eyes, flashing to you, to pass to future time,
 To launch and spin through space revolving, sideling--from these to
 emanate,
 To You, whoe'er you are--a Look.


 A Traveler of thoughts and years--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, 20
 As on the road, or at some crevice door, by chance, or open'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.