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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=534917" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>1861</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=534917" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">ARM’D year! year of the struggle! <br>No dainty rhymes or sentimental love verses for you, terrible year! <br>Not you as some pale poetling, seated at a desk, lisping cadenzas <br> piano; <br>But as a strong man, erect, clothed in blue clothes, advancing, <br> carrying a rifle on your shoulder, <br>With well-gristled body and sunburnt face and hands–with a knife in <br> the belt at your side, <br>As I heard you shouting loud–your sonorous voice ringing across the <br> continent; <br>Your masculine voice, O year, as rising amid the great cities, <br>Amid the men of Manhattan I saw you, as one of the workmen, the <br> dwellers in Manhattan; <br>Or with large steps crossing the prairies out of Illinois and <br> Indiana, <br>Rapidly crossing the West with springy gait, and descending the <br> Alleghanies; <br>Or down from the great lakes, or in Pennsylvania, or on deck along <br> the Ohio river; <br>Or southward along the Tennessee or Cumberland rivers, or at <br> Chattanooga on the mountain top, <br>Saw I your gait and saw I your sinewy limbs, clothed in blue, bearing <br> weapons, robust year; <br>Heard your determin’d voice, launch’d forth again and again; <br>Year that suddenly sang by the mouths of the round-lipp’d cannon, <br>I repeat you, hurrying, crashing, sad, distracted year.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Walt+Whitman">Walt Whitman</a></strong></div>