Book XXIV. Autumn Rivulets: Song of Prudence
Manhattan’s streets I saunter’d pondering,
On Time, Space, Reality—on such as these, and abreast with them
Prudence.
The last explanation always remains to be made about prudence, Little and large alike drop quietly aside from the prudence that suits
immortality.
The soul is of itself,
All verges to it, all has reference to what ensues,
All that a person does, says, thinks, is of consequence,
Not a move can a man or woman make, that affects him or her in a day,
month, any part of the direct lifetime, or the hour of death,
But the same affects him or her onward afterward through the indirect
lifetime.
The indirect is just as much as the direct,
The spirit receives from the body just as much as it gives to the body, if
not more.
Not one word or deed, not venereal sore, discoloration, privacy of the
onanist,
Putridity of gluttons or rum-drinkers, peculation, cunning, betrayal,
murder, seduction, prostitution,
But has results beyond death as really as before death.
Charity and personal force are the only investments worth any thing.
No specification is necessary, all that a male or female does, that is
vigorous, benevolent, clean, is so much profit to him or her,
In the unshakable order of the universe and through the whole scope of
it forever.
Who has been wise receives interest,
Savage, felon, President, judge, farmer, sailor, mechanic, literat, young,
old, it is the same,
The interest will come round—all will come round.
Singly, wholly, to affect now, affected their time, will forever affect, all
of the past and all of the present and all of the future,
All the brave actions of war and peace,
All help given to relatives, strangers, the poor, old, sorrowful, young
children, widows, the sick, and to shunn’d persons,
All self-denial that stood steady and aloof on wrecks, and saw others fill
the seats of the boats,
All offering of substance or life for the good old cause, or for a friend’s
sake, or opinion’s sake,
All pains of enthusiasts scoff ’d at by their neighbors,
All the limitless sweet love and precious suffering of mothers,
All honest men baffled in strifes recorded or unrecorded,
All the grandeur and good of ancient nations whose fragments we inherit,
All the good of the dozens of ancient nations unknown to us by name,
date, location,
All that was ever manfully begun, whether it succeeded or no,
All suggestions of the divine mind of man or the divinity of his mouth,
or the shaping of his great hands,
All that is well thought or said this day on any part of the globe, or on
any of the wandering stars, or on any of the fix’d stars, by those there
as we are here,
All that is henceforth to be thought or done by you whoever you are, or
by any one,
These inure, have inured, shall inure, to the identities from which they
sprang, or shall spring.
Did you guess any thing lived only its moment?
The world does not so exist, no parts palpable or impalpable so exist,
No consummation exists without being from some long previous
consummation, and that from some other,
Without the farthest conceivable one coming a bit nearer the beginning
than any.
Whatever satisfies souls is true;
Prudence entirely satisfies the craving and glut of souls,
Itself only finally satisfies the soul,
The soul has that measureless pride which revolts from every lesson but
its own.
Now I breathe the word of the prudence that walks abreast with time,
space, reality,
That answers the pride which refuses every lesson but its own.
What is prudence is indivisible,
Declines to separate one part of life from every part,
Divides not the righteous from the unrighteous or the living from the
dead,
Matches every thought or act by its correlative,
Knows no possible forgiveness or deputed atonement,
Knows that the young man who composedly peril’d his life and lost it
has done exceedingly well for himself without doubt,
That he who never peril’d his life, but retains it to old age in riches and
ease, has probably achiev’d nothing for himself worth mentioning,
Knows that only that person has really learn’d who has learn’d to prefer
results,
Who favors body and soul the same,
Who perceives the indirect assuredly following the direct,
Who in his spirit in any emergency whatever neither hurries nor avoids
death.
Altre opere di Walt Whitman...
