Skip to main content

Leaves of Grass 8

Part of the cluster LEAVES OF GRASS.


1WHAT shall I give? and which are my miracles? 2Realism is mine—my miracles—Take freely, Take without end—I offer them to you wherever  
 your feet can carry you, or your eyes reach.
3Why! who makes much of a miracle? As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the  
Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the  
 edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods, Or talk by day with any one I love—or sleep in the  
 bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at the table at dinner with my mother, Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car, Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive, of a sum- 
 mer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields, Or birds—or the wonderfulness of insects in the air, Or the wonderfulness of the sun-down—or of stars  
 shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite, delicate, thin curve of the new-moon  
 in spring;
Or whether I go among those I like best, and that like  
 me best—mechanics, boatmen, farmers,
  [ begin page 220 ]ppp.01500.228.jpg Or among the savans—or to the soiree—or to the  
Or stand a long while looking at the movements of  
Or behold children at their sports, Or the admirable sight of the perfect old man, or the  
 perfect old woman,
Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial, Or my own eyes and figure in the glass, These, with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles, The whole referring—yet each distinct and in its  
4To me, every hour of the light and dark is miracle, Every inch of space is a miracle, Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread  
 with the same,
Every cubic foot of the interior swarms with the same; Every spear of grass—the frames, limbs, organs, of  
 men and women, and all that concerns them,
All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.
5To me the sea is a continual miracle, The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the  
 waves—the ships, with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?

Part of the cluster LEAVES OF GRASS.

Back to top