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Leaves of Grass (1860)
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13.
| 1 O BITTER sprig! Confession sprig! |
| In the bouquet I give you place also—I bind you in, |
| Proceeding no further till, humbled publicly, |
| I give fair warning, once for all. |
2 I own that I have been sly, thievish, mean, a prevari-
cator, greedy, derelict,
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| And I own that I remain so yet. |
3 What foul thought but I think it—or have in me the
stuff out of which it is thought?
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What in darkness in bed at night, alone or with a
companion?
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| 4 You felons on trials in courts, |
You convicts in prison cells—you sentenced assas-
sins, chained and handcuffed with iron,
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| Who am I, that I am not on trial, or in prison? |
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are
not chained with iron, or my ankles with iron?
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5 You prostitutes flaunting over the trottoirs, or obscene
in your rooms,
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Who am I, that I should call you more obscene than
myself?
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| O I acknowledge—I exposé! |
(O admirers! praise not me! compliment not me! you
make me wince,
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| I see what you do not—I know what you do not;) |
| Inside these breast-bones I lie smutch'd and choked, |
Beneath this face that appears so impassive, hell's
tides continually run,
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| Lusts and wickedness are acceptable to me, |
| I walk with delinquents with passionate love, |
I feel I am of them—I belong to those convicts and
prostitutes myself,
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And henceforth I will not deny them—for how can I
deny myself?
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