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Loud I call to you my love!

am, my love.

Hither, my love! Here I am! Here!

O what is my destination? O I fear it is henceforth chaos!

steadily up to my ears, Death, Death, Death, Death, Death.

, My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs

my bare-stript heart, And reached till you felt my beard, and reached till you held my feet.

my Soul!

We closed with him—the yards entangled—the cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with his own hands.

I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cried

that was not the end of those nations, or any person of them, any more than this shall be the end of my

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem, I whisper with my lips close to your

O I have been dilatory and dumb, I should have made my way straight to you long ago, I should have blabbed

paint myriads of heads, but paint no head with- out without its nimbus of gold-colored light, From my

shame or the need of shame. 28* Air, soil, water, fire, these are words, I myself am a word with them—my

qualities inter- penetrate interpenetrate with theirs—my name is nothing to them, Though it were told

in the three thousand languages, what would air, soil, water, fire, know of my name?

When I undertake to tell the best, I find I cannot, My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots, My breath

cheerfully accept, A little sustenance, a hut and garden, a little money —these as I rendezvous with my

for something to repre- sent represent the new race, our self-poised Democracy, Therefore I send you my

Softly I lay my right hand upon you—you just feel it, I do not argue—I bend my head close, and half-

To My Soul TO MY SOUL.

The States—but I cannot tell whither or how long; Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my

Then all may arrive to but this; The glances of my eyes, that swept the daylight, The unspeakable love

I interchanged with women, My joys in the open air—my walks through the Man- nahatta Manahatta , The

of my mouth, rude, ignorant, arrogant— my many faults and derelictions, 38* The light touches, on my

MY spirit to yours, dear brother, Do not mind because many, sounding your name, do not understand you

I do not sound your name, but I understand you, (there are others also;) I specify you with joy, O my

divisions, jealousies, recriminations on every side, They close peremptorily upon us, to surround us, my

my brother or my sister! Keep on!

I exclude you, Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you, and the leaves to rustle for you, do my

My girl, I appoint with you an appointment—and I charge you that you make preparation to be worthy to

who should serve the good old cause, the prog- ress progress and freedom of the race, the cause of my

if that were not the resumé; Of Histories—As if such, however complete, were not less complete than my

poems; As if the shreds, the records of nations, could possibly be as lasting as my poems; As if here

AS I sit with others, at a great feast, suddenly, while the music is playing, To my mind, (whence it

it harmed me, giving others the same chances and rights as myself—As if it were not indispensable to my

I remember I said to myself at the winter-close, before my leaves sprang at all, that I would become

a candid and unloosed summer-poet, I said I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with reference to

what was promised, When each part is peopled with free people, When there is no city on earth to lead my

I have pressed through in my own right, I have offered my style to every one—I have jour- neyed journeyed

Remember my words—I love you—I depart from materials, I am as one disembodied, triumphant, dead.

Receive me and my lover too—he will not let me go without him.

my clothes were stolen while I was abed, Now I am thrust forth, where shall I run?

I descend my western course, my sinews are flaccid, Perfume and youth course through me, and I am their

carefully darn my grandson's stockings.

How he informs against my brother and sister, and takes pay for their blood!

Thither every-day life, speech, utensils, politics, per- sons persons , estates, Thither we also, I with my

O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman! Such gliding wonders! Such sights and sounds!

change of the light and shade, I see distant lands, as real and near to the inhabitants of them, as my

see Hermes, unsuspected, dying, well-beloved, saying to the people, Do not weep for me, This is not my

race, I see the results of the perseverance and industry of my race, I see ranks, colors, barbarisms

My spirit has passed in compassion and determination around the whole earth, I have looked for equals

home in Kanuck woods, Or wandering and hunting, my drink water, my diet meat, Or withdrawn to muse and

In the Year 80 of The States, My tongue, every atom of my blood, formed from this soil, this air, Born

Take my leaves, America!

My comrade!

steamers steaming through my poems!

This poem later appeared as "Calamus No. 40," Leaves of Grass (1860); as "That Shadow My Likeness," Leaves

You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them shape!

Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me, the sun-light expands my blood?

Why, when they leave me, do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?

It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well. Allons! Be not detained!

I give you my hand!

My children and grand-children—my white hair and beard, My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long

stretch of my life.

is my mind!

O the real life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh; O my body, done with materials—my

O to have my life henceforth my poem of joys!

I WAS asking for something specific and perfect for my city, and behold!

there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly, musical, self-sufficient, I see that the word of my

my city! The city of such women, I am mad to be with them!

My South! O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse, and love! Good and evil! O all dear to me!

O dear to me my birth-things—All moving things, and the trees where I was born—the grains, plants, rivers

; Dear to me my own slow sluggish rivers where they flow, distant, over flats of silvery sands, or through

the Tombigbee, the Santee, the Coosa, and the Sabine; O pensive, far away wandering, I return with my

the graceful palmetto; I pass rude sea-headlands and enter Pamlico Sound through an inlet, and dart my

and which are my miracles?

Realism is mine—my miracles—Take freely, Take without end—I offer them to you wherever your feet can

As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight

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

perfect old man, or the perfect old woman, Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial, Or my

do not doubt there is more in myself than I have supposed—and more in all men and women— and more in my

ALL day I have walked the city, and talked with my friends, and thought of prudence, Of time, space,

the still woods I loved, I will not go now on the pastures to walk, I will not strip the clothes from my

body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other flesh, to renew me

I do not see any of it upon you to-day—or perhaps I am deceived, I will run a furrow with my plough—I

will press my spade through the sod, and turn it up un- derneath underneath , I am sure I shall expose

transparent green-wash of the sea, which is so amorous after me, That it is safe to allow it to lick my

And I stood before the young man face to face, and took his right hand in my left hand, and his left

hand in my right hand, And I answered for his brother, and for men, and I answered for THE POET, and

to the President at his levee, And he says, Good-day, my brother!

Then the mechanics take him for a mechanic, And the soldiers suppose him to be a captain, and the sailors

take from my lips this kiss, Whoever you are, I give it especially to you; So long—and I hope we shall

WHAT am I, after all, but a child, pleased with the sound of my own name?

tell why it affects me so much, when I hear it from women's voices, and from men's voices, or from my

No—it has not yet fully risen ;) Whether I shall complete what is here started, Whether I shall attain my

I am de- termined determined to press my way toward you, Sound your voice!

good as such-like, visible here or anywhere, stand provided for in a handful of space, which I extend my

arm and half enclose with my hand, That contains the start of each and all—the virtue, the germs of

arrive, or passed on farther than those of the earth, I henceforth no more ignore them than I ignore my

, Unfolded only out of the inimitable poem of the woman, can come the poems of man—only thence have my

Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chained with iron, or my ankles with iron?

distinctly I comprehend no better sphere than this earth, I comprehend no better life than the life of my

I do not know what follows the death of my body, But I know well that whatever it is, it is best for

I am not uneasy but I shall have good housing to myself, But this is my first—how can I like the rest

face the same, But this is the nipple of a breast of my mother, always near and always divine to me,

— and that the experience of this earth will prove only one out of myriads; But I believe my body and

WHO learns my lesson complete?

as every one is immortal, I know it is wonderful—but my eye-sight is equally wonderful, and how I was

conceived in my moth- er's mother's womb is equally wonderful; And how I was not palpable once, but

And that my Soul embraces you this hour, and we af- fect affect each other without ever seeing each other

beget superb children, To speak readily and clearly—to feel at home among common people, And to hold my

Let me have my own way, Let others promulge the laws—I will make no ac- count account of the laws, Let

charged against me, half as bad as the evil I really am; I call to the world to distrust the accounts of my

friends, but listen to my enemies—as I my- self myself do; I charge you, too, forever, reject those

Fascinated, my eyes, reverting from the south, dropped, to follow those slender winrows, Chaff, straw

Bent to the very earth, here preceding what follows, Oppressed with myself that I have dared to open my

I take what is underfoot; What is yours is mine, my father.

I throw myself upon your breast, my father, I cling to you so that you cannot unloose me, I hold you

from my dead lips the ooze exuding at last! See—the prismatic colors, glistening and rolling!)

my Soul!

We closed with him—the yards entangled—the cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with his own hands.

I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cried

O the real life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh; O my body, done with materials—my

my brother or my sister! Keep on!

Features of my equals, would you trick me with your creased and cadaverous march?

I saw the face of the most smeared and slobbering idiot they had at the asylum, And I knew for my consolation

what they knew not, And I knew of the agents that emptied and broke my brother, The same wait to clear

she blushingly cries—Come nigh to me, limber-hipp'd man, and give me your finger and thumb, Stand at my

upon you, Fill me with albescent honey, bend down to me, Rub to me with your chafing beard, rub to my

I walked the shores of my Eastern Sea, Heard over the waves the little voice, Saw the divine infant,

and cogent, I maintain the bequeath'd cause, as for all lands, And I send these words to Paris, with my

ONCE I passed through a populous city, imprinting my brain, for future use, with its shows, architec-

Give me the drench of my passions! Give me life coarse and rank!

dancers, and drink with the drink- ers drinkers , The echoes ring with our indecent calls, I take for my

love some prostitute—I pick out some low person for my dearest friend, He shall be lawless, rude, illiterate—he

one condemned by others for deeds done; I will play a part no longer—Why should I exile myself from my

What do my shouts amid lightnings and raging winds mean?)

(I bequeath them to you, my children, I tell them to you, for reasons, O bridegroom and bride.)

(Know, I am a man, attracting, at any time, her I but look upon, or touch with the tips of my fingers

, Or that touches my face, or leans against me.)

To rise thither with my inebriate Soul! To be lost, if it must be so!

SPONTANEOUS me, Nature, The loving day, the friend I am happy with, The arm of my friend hanging idly

over my shoulder, The hill-side whitened with blossoms of the mountain ash, The same, late in autumn—the

pressed and glued together with love, Earth of chaste love—life that is only life after love, The body of my

and trembling encircling fingers—the young man all colored, red, ashamed, angry; The souse upon me of my

greed that eats me day and night with hungry gnaw, till I saturate what shall produce boys to fill my