The impalpable sustenance of me from all things at all hours of the day,
- The simple, compact, well-join’d scheme, myself disintegrated, every one disintegrated yet part of the scheme,
- The similitudes of the past and those of the future,
- The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings, on the walk in the street and the passage over the river,
- The current rushing so swiftly and swimming with me far away,
- The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them,
- The certainty of others, the life, love, sight, hearing of others.
- Others will enter the gates of the ferry and cross from shore to shore,
- Others will watch the run of the flood-tide,
- Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the heights of Brooklyn to the south and east,
- Others will see the islands large and small;
Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half an hour high,
A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others will see them, * Will enjoy the sunset, * the pouring-in of the flood-tide, * the falling-back to the sea of the ebb-tide.