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Leaves of Grass (1871-72)
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I saw in Louisiana a Live-Oak Growing.
I SAW in Louisiana a live-oak growing, |
All alone stood it, and the moss hung down from the
branches;
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Without any companion it grew there, uttering joyous
leaves of dark green,
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And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think of
myself;
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But I wonder'd how it could utter joyous leaves, stand-
ing alone there, without its friend, its lover near
—for I knew I could not;
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And I broke off a twig with a certain number of leaves
upon it, and twined around it a little moss,
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And brought it away—and I have placed it in sight in
my room;
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It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear friends, |
(For I believe lately I think of little else than of them;) |
Yet it remains to me a curious token—it makes me
think of manly love;
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For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there in
Louisiana, solitary, in a wide flat space,
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Uttering, joyous leaves all its life, without a friend, a
lover, near,
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I know very well I could not. |
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