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;
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?

2  You prostitutes flaunting over the trottoirs, or ob-
         scene in your rooms,
Who am I, that I should call you more obscene than
         myself?

3  O culpable!
I acknowledge—I exposé!
(O admirers! praise not me! compliment not me! you
         make me wince,
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;
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,
And henceforth I will not deny them—for how can I
         deny myself?
 
 
 
 
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