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The area of pens of live pork, the killing-hammer, the
hog-hook, the scalder's tub, gutting, the cutter's
cleaver, the packer's maul, and the plenteous
winter-work of pork-packing,
Flour-works, grinding of wheat, rye, maize, rice—
the barrels and the half and quarter barrels, the
loaded barges, the high piles on wharves and
levees,
Bread and cakes in the bakery, the milliner's ribbons,
the dress-maker's patterns, the tea-table,
the home-made sweetmeats;
Cheap literature, maps, charts, lithographs, daily and
weekly newspapers,
The column of wants in the one-cent paper, the news
by telegraph, amusements, operas, shows,
The business parts of a city, the trottoirs of a city
when thousands of well-dressed people walk up
and down,
The cotton, woollen, linen you wear, the money you
make and spend,
Your room and bed-room, your piano-forte, the stove
and cook-pans,
The house you live in, the rent, the other tenants, the
deposit in the savings-bank, the trade at the
grocery,
The pay on Seventh Day night, the going home, and
the purchases;
In them the heft of the heaviest—in them far more
than you estimated, and far less also,
In them realities for you and me—in them poems for
you and me,
In them, not yourself—you and your Soul enclose all
things, regardless of estimation,