Souls of men and women！ it is not you I call unseen， unheard，
untouchable and untouching，
It is not you I go argue pro1 and con2 about， and to settle
whether you are alive or no，
I own publicly who you are， if nobody else owns.
Grown， half-grown and babe， of this country and every
country， indoors and out-doors， one just as much as
the other， I see，
And all else behind or through them.
The wife， and she is not one jot3 less than the husband，
The daughter， and she is just as good as the son，
The mother， and she is every bit as much as the father.
Offspring of ignorant and poor， boys apprenticed4 to trades，
Young fellows working on farms and old fellows working on
farms，
Sailor-men， merchant-men， coasters， immigrants，
All these I see， but nigher and farther the same I see，
None shall escape me and none shall wish to escape me.
I bring what you much need yet always have，
Not money， amours， dress， eating， erudition， but as good，
I send no agent or medium， offer no representative of value，
but offer the value itself.
There is something that comes to one now and perpetually，
It is not what is printed， preach'd， discussed， it eludes5
discussion and print，
It is not to be put in a book， it is not in this book，
It is for you whoever you are， it is no farther from you
than your hearing and sight are from you，
It is hinted by nearest， commonest， readiest， it is ever
provoked by them.
