Goodby, big country, rich country, after 1,000 days I'm leaving you forever. Goodby you level farm land, you cotton raising state, you proudest soil under the sun: "My Texas." Goodby especially to you, Fortress Swift with your barracks and training grounds; you took it from me, finally, this consciousness of mine to belong to mankind. Goodby busy office at the post, Goodby dear desks and copies and typewriters. Goodby folks, all you clerk-typists and levelly [lovely] stenographers, with silk stockings, powdered faces and rouged lips. I was amazed seeing you sitting leisurely at hard work with "Coks" at hand. Goodby America: I'm going to England now as a young slave and then to Russia as an old one. Goodby - You swell life.