O, to know the universe itself as a road, as many roads, as roads for traveling souls,
All parts away for the progress of souls,
All other progress is the needed emblem and sustenance of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads of the universe,
All religion, all solid things, arts, governments,
All that was or is apparent upon this globe or any globe,
Falls into niches and corners before the procession of souls along the grand roads of the universe.

The souls moving along,
(Are they invisible, while the least of the stones is visible?)
Forever alive, forever forward,
Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men,
They go! they go!
A procession without halt, apparent at times, and hid at times,
No eye that ever saw the starting, no eye that ever need wait for the ending.

Behold! (for still the procession moves,)
Where any one goes, however ahead, the rest duly coming, however far behind,
None were or will be hurried, none were or will be retarded.
I know that they go, but I know not where they go,
But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great.

NEXT: THE POET ON THE OPEN ROAD

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