Poem Walt Whitman

The Prairie States

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NEWER garden of creation, no primal solitude,
Dense, joyous, modern, populous millions, cities and farms,
With iron interlaced, composite, tied, many in one,
By all the world contributed—freedom’s and law’s and thrift’s
society,
The crown and teeming paradise, so far, of time’s accumulations,
To justify the past.
The Prairie-Grass Dividing
The Pallid Wreath

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