Here shall you trace in flowing operation, In every state of practical, busy movement, the rills of civilization, Materials here under your eye shall change their shape as if by magic, The cotton shall be pick’d almost in the very field, Shall be dried, clean’d, ginn’d, baled, spun into thread and cloth before you, You shall see hands at work at all the old processes and all the new ones, You shall see the various grains and how flour is made and then bread baked by the bakers, You shall see the crude ores of California and Nevada passing on and on till they become bullion, You shall watch how the printer sets type, and learn what a composing-stick is, You shall mark in amazement the Hoe press whirling its cylinders, shedding the printed leaves steady and fast, The photograph, model, watch, pin, nail, shall be created before you. In large calm halls, a stately museum shall teach you the infinite lessons of minerals, In another, woods, plants, vegetation shall be illustrated--in another animals, animal life and development. One stately house shall be the music house, Others for other arts--learning, the sciences, shall all be here, None shall be slighted, none but shall here be honor’d, help’d, exampled. 6 (This, this and these, America, shall be your pyramids and obelisks, Your Alexandrian Pharos, gardens of Babylon, Your temple at Olympia.) The male and female many laboring not, Shall ever here confront the laboring many, With precious benefits to both, glory to all, To thee America, and thee eternal Muse. And here shall ye inhabit powerful Matrons! In your vast state vaster than all the old, Echoed through long, long centuries to come, To sound of different, prouder songs, with stronger themes, Practical, peaceful life, the people’s life, the People themselves, Lifted, illumin’d, bathed in peace--elate, secure in peace. 7 Away with themes of war! away with war itself! Hence from my shuddering sight to never more return that show of blacken’d, mutilated corpses! That hell unpent and raid of blood, fit for wild tigers or for lop-tongued wolves, not reasoning men, And in its stead speed industry’s campaigns, With thy undaunted armies, engineering, Thy pennants labor, loosen’d to the breeze, Thy bugles sounding loud and clear. Away with old romance! Away with novels, plots and plays of foreign courts, Away with love-verses sugar’d in rhyme, the intrigues, amours of idlers, Fitted for only banquets of the night where dancers to late music slide, The unhealthy pleasures, extravagant dissipations of the few, With perfumes, heat and wine, beneath the dazzling chandeliers.