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Leaves of Grass (1871-72)
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You Felons on Trial in Courts.
1 YOU felons on trial in courts; |
You convicts in prison-cells—you sentenced assassins,
chain'd and hand-cuff'd with iron;
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Who am I, too, that I am not on trial, or in prison? |
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not
chain'd with iron, or my ankles with iron?
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2 You prostitutes flaunting over the trottoirs, or ob-
scene in your rooms,
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Who am I, that I should call you more obscene than
myself?
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(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.) |
4 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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