To Him That Was Crucified

MY spirit to yours, dear brother;

Do not mind because many, sounding your name, do not understand you;

I do not sound your name, but I understand you, (there are others

                  also

I specify you with joy, O my comrade, to salute you, and to salute

those who are with you, before and since—and those to come

                  also,

That we all labor together, transmitting the same charge and

                  succession;

We few, equals, indifferent of lands, indifferent of times;

We, enclosers of all continents, all castes—allowers of all

                  theologies,

Compassionaters, perceivers, rapport of men,

We walk silent among disputes and assertions, but reject not the

                 disputers, nor any thing that is asserted;

We hear the bawling and din—we are reach'd at by divisions,

                 jealousies, recriminations on every side,

They close peremptorily upon us, to surround us, my comrade,

Yet we walk unheld, free, the whole earth over, journeying up and

                down, till we make our ineffaceable mark upon time and the

                diverse eras,

Till we saturate time and eras, that the men and women of races, ages

                to come, may prove brethren and lovers, as we are.