No great literature nor any like style of behavior or oratory or social intercourse or household arrangements or public institutions or the treatment of bosses of employed people, nor executive detail or detail of the army and navy, nor spirit of legislation or courts or police or tuition or architecture or songs or amusements or the costumes of young men, can long elude the jealous and passionate instinct of American standards.  Whether or no the sign appears from the mouths of the people, it throbs a live interrogation in every freeman’s and freewoman’s heart after that which passes by or this built to remain.  Is it uniform with my country?  Are its disposals without ignominious distinctions?  Is it for the ever growing communes of brothers and lovers, large, well-united, proud beyond the old models, generous beyond all models?  Is it something grown fresh out of the fields or drawn from the sea for use to me today here?  I know that what answers for me an American must answer for any individual or nation that serves for a part of my materials.  Does this answer? or is it without reference to universal needs? or sprung of the needs of the less developed society of special ranks? or old needs of pleasure overlaid by modern science or forms?  Does this acknowledge liberty with audible and absolute acknowledgment, and set slavery at nought for life and death?  Will it help breed one goodshaped and wellhung man, and a woman to be his perfect and independent mate?  Does it improve manners?  Is it for the nursing of the young of the republic?  Does it solve readily with the sweet milk of the nipples of the breasts of the mother of many children?  Has it too the old ever-fresh forbearance and impartiality?  Does it look for the same love on the last born and on those hardening toward stature, and on the errant, and on those who disdain all strength of assault outside their own?

The poems distilled from other poems will probably pass away.  The coward will surely pass away.  The expectation of the vital and great can only be satisfied by the demeanor of the vital and great.  The swarms of the polished deprecating and reflectors and the polite float off and leave no remembrance.  America prepares with composure and goodwill for the visitors that have sent word.  It is not intellect that is to be their warrant and welcome.  The talented, the artist, the ingenious, the editor, the statesman, the erudite ... they are not unappreciated ... they fall in their place and do their work.  The soul of the nation also does its work.  No disguise can pass on it ... no disguise can conceal from it.  It rejects none, it permits all.  Only towards as good as itself and toward the like of itself will it advance half-way.  An individual is as superb as a nation when he has the qualities which make a superb nation.  The soul of the largest and wealthiest and proudest nation may well go half-way to meet that of its poets.  The signs are effectual.  There is no fear of mistake.  If the one is true the other is true.  The proof of a poet is that his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorbed it.