|
Leaves of Grass (1867)
contents
| previous
| next
ELEMENTAL DRIFTS.
1
O I wish I could impress others as you and the waves
have just been impressing me.
|
2 As I ebb'd with an ebb of the ocean of life, |
As I wended the shores I know, |
As I walk'd where the sea-ripples wash you, Pau-
manok,
|
Where they rustle up, hoarse and sibilant, |
Where the fierce old mother endlessly cries for her
castaways,
|
I, musing, late in the autumn day, gazing off south-
ward,
|
Alone, held by this eternal self of me, out of the pride
of which I have utter'd my poems,
|
Was seiz'd by the spirit that trails in the lines under-
foot,
|
In the rim, the sediment, that stands for all the water
and all the land of the globe.
|
3 Fascinated, my eyes, reverting from the south,
drop't, to follow those slender winrows,
|
Chaff, straw, splinters of wood, weeds, and the sea-
gluten,
|
Scum, scales from shining rocks, leaves of salt-lettuce,
left by the tide;
|
Miles walking, the sound of breaking waves the other
side of me,
|
Paumanok, there and then, as I thought the old
thought of likenesses,
|
View Page 332
|
These you presented to me, you fish-shaped island, |
As I wended the shores I know, |
As I walk'd with that eternal self of me, seeking
types.
|
2
4 As I wend to the shores I know not, |
As I list to the dirge, the voices of men and women
wreck't,
|
As I inhale the impalpable breezes that set in upon
me,
|
As the ocean so mysterious rolls toward me closer
and closer,
|
I, too, but signify, at the utmost, a little wash'd-up
drift,
|
A few sands and dead leaves to gather, |
Gather, and merge myself as part of the sands and
drift.
|
5 O baffled, balk'd, bent to the very earth, |
Opprest with myself that I have dared to open my
mouth,
|
Aware now, that, amid all the blab whose echoes re-
coil upon me, I have not once had the least
idea who or what I am,
|
But that before all my insolent poems, the real ME
stands yet untouch'd, untold, altogether un-
reach'd,
|
Withdrawn far, mocking me with mock-congratu-
latory signs and bows,
|
With peals of distant ironical laughter at every word
I have written,
|
Pointing in silence to all these songs, and then to
the sand beneath.
|
6 Now I perceive I have not understood anything—
not a single object—and that no man ever
can.
|
View Page 333
|
7 I perceive Nature, here in sight of the sea, is taking
advantage of me, to dart upon me, and sting
me,
|
Because I have dared to open my mouth to sing at
all.
|
3
8 You oceans both! I close with you; |
These little shreds shall, indeed, stand for all. |
9 You friable shore, with trails of debris! |
You fish-shaped island! I take what is underfoot; |
What is yours is mine, my father. |
I too have bubbled up, floated the measureless float,
and been wash'd on your shores;
|
I too am but a trail of drift and debris, |
I too leave little wrecks upon you, you fish-shaped
island.
|
11 I throw myself upon your breast, my father, |
I cling to you so that you cannot unloose me, |
I hold you so firm, till you answer me something. |
Touch me with your lips, as I touch those I love, |
Breathe to me, while I hold you close, the secret of
the wondrous murmuring I envy.
|
4
13 Ebb, ocean of life, (the flow will return,) |
Cease not your moaning, you fierce old mother, |
Endlessly cry for your castaways—but fear not, deny
not me,
|
Rustle not up so hoarse and angry against my feet, as
I touch you, or gather from you.
|
View Page 334
|
14 I mean tenderly by you, |
I gather for myself, and for this phantom, looking
down where we lead, and following me and
mine.
|
We, loose winrows, little corpses, |
Froth, snowy white, and bubbles, |
(See! from my dead lips the ooze exuding at last! |
See—the prismatic colors, glistening and rolling!) |
Tufts of straw, sands, fragments, |
Buoy'd hither from many moods, one contradicting
another,
|
From the storm, the long calm, the darkness, the
swell;
|
Musing, pondering, a breath, a briny tear, a dab of
liquid or soil;
|
Up just as much out of fathomless workings fer-
mented and thrown;
|
A limp blossom or two, torn, just as much over waves
floating, drifted at random;
|
Just as much for us that sobbing dirge of Nature; |
Just as much, whence we come, that blare of the
cloud-trumpets;
|
We, capricious, brought hither, we know not whence,
spread out before you,
|
You, up there, walking or sitting, |
Whoever you are—we too lie in drifts at your feet. |
contents
| previous
| next
|
| |