As the time draws nigh, glooming, a cloud,
A dread beyond, of I know not what, darkens me.

I shall go forth,
I shall traverse The States awhile—but I cannot tell whither or how long,
Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my voice will
        suddenly cease.

O book, O chants! must all then amount to but this?
Must we barely arrive at this beginning of us?—And yet it is 
        enough, O soul!
O soul! we have positively appear'd—that is enough.