By that long scan of waves, myself call'd back, resumed upon myself, In every crest some undulating light or shade -- some retrospect, Joys, travels, studies, silent panoramas -- scenes, ephemeral, The long past war, the battles, hospital sights, the wounded and the dead, Myself through every by-gone phase -- my idle youth -- old age at hand, My three-score years of life summ'd up, and more, and past, By any grand ideal tried, intentionless, the whole a nothing, And haply yet some drop within God's scheme's ensemble -- some wave, or part of wave, Like one of yours, ye multitudinous ocean. |