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Walt Whitman · Leaves of Grass

Poem 228 of 382 · Autumn Rivulets

The Prairie States

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A 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.

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