When the psalm sings, instead of the singer; When the script preaches, instead of the preacher; When the pulpit descends and goes, instead of the carver that carved the supporting desk; When I can touch the body of books, by night or by day, and when they touch my body back again; When a university course convinces, like a slumbering woman and child convince; When the minted gold in the vault smiles like the night-watchman's daughter; When warrantee deeds loafe in chairs opposite, and are my friendly companions; I intend to reach them my hand, and make as much of them as I do of men and women like you. The sum of all known reverence I add up in you, whoever you are; The President is there in the White House for you--it is not you who are here for him; The Secretaries act in their bureaus for you--not you here for them; The Congress convenes every twelfth month for you; Laws, courts, the forming of States, the charters of cities, the going and coming of commerce and mails, are all for you. List close, my scholars dear! All doctrines, all politics and civilisation, exsurge from you; All sculpture and monuments, and anything inscribed anywhere, are tallied in you; The gist of histories and statistics, as far back as the records reach, is in you this hour, and myths and tales the same; If you were not breathing and walking here, where would they all be? The most renowned poems would be ashes, orations and plays would be vacuums. All architecture is what you do to it when you look upon it; Did you think it was in the white or grey stone? or the lines of the arches and cornices? All music is what awakes from you, when you are reminded by the instruments; It is not the violins and the cornets--it is not the oboe nor the beating drums, nor the score of the baritone singer singing his sweet romanza--nor that of the men's chorus, nor that of the women's chorus, It is nearer and farther than they. 6. Will the whole come back then? Can each see signs of the best by a look in the looking-glass? is there nothing greater or more? Does all sit there with you, with the mystic, unseen soul? Strange and hard that paradox true I give; Objects gross and the unseen Soul are one.