Walt Whitman: Starting from Paumanok, Part 5

Part 5

Dead poets, philosophs, priests, Martyrs, artists, inventors, governments long since, Language-shapers on other shores, Nations once powerful, now reduced, withdrawn, or desolate, I dare not proceed till I respectfully credit what you have left     wafted hither, I have perused it, own it is admirable, (moving awhile among it,) Think nothing can ever be greater, nothing can ever deserve more     than it deserves, Regarding it all intently a long while, then dismissing it, I stand in my place with my own day here.
Here lands female and male, Here the heir-ship and heiress-ship of the world, here the flame of     materials, Here spirituality the translatress, the openly-avow'd, The ever-tending, the finale of visible forms, The satisfier, after due long-waiting now advancing, Yes here comes my mistress the soul.