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and gently turn'd over upon me, And parted my shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my
My ties and ballasts leave me—I travel—I sail—my elbows rest in the sea-gaps; I skirt the sierras—my
We closed with him—the yards entangled—the can- non cannon touch'd; My captain lash'd fast with his own
Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries
Only three guns are in use; One is directed by the captain himself against the ene- my's enemy's main-mast
We closed with him—the yards entangled—the can- non cannon touch'd; My captain lash'd fast with his own
Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries
Only three guns are in use; One is directed by the captain himself against the ene- my's enemy's main-mast
MY LIKENESS! EARTH! my likeness!
heart, O my soldiers, my veterans, My heart gives you love.
Covering all my lands! all my sea-shores lining! Flag of death!
Ah my silvery beauty! ah my woolly white and crim- son crimson !
Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty! My sacred one, my mother.
VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night: When you, my son and my comrade, dropt at my side that day
battle, the even-contested battle; Till late in the night reliev'd, to the place at last again I made my
long-drawn sigh—Long, long I gazed; Then on the earth partially reclining, sat by your side, leaning my
chin in my hands; Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade—Not a tear
, not a word; Vigil of silence, love and death—vigil for you, my son and my soldier, As onward silently
Not Heaving From My Ribb'd Breast Only. NOT HEAVING FROM MY RIBB'D BREAST ONLY.
NOT heaving from my ribb'd breast only; Not in sighs at night, in rage, dissatisfied with myself; Not
in those long-drawn, ill-supprest sighs; Not in many an oath and promise broken; Not in my wilful and
savage soul's volition; Not in the subtle nourishment of the air; Not in this beating and pounding at my
O pulse of my life! Need I that you exist and show yourself, any more than in these songs.
That Shadow, My Likeness. That Shadow, my Likeness.
THAT shadow, my likeness, that goes to and fro, seek- ing seeking a livelihood, chattering, chaffering
where it flits; How often I question and doubt whether that is really me; —But in these, and among my
lovers, and caroling my songs, O I never doubt whether that is really me.
WHEN I heard at the close of the day how my name had been receiv'd with plaudits in the capitol, still
it was not a happy night for me that fol- low'd follow'd ; And else, when I carous'd, or when my plans
ing undressing , bathed, laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise, And when I thought how my
all that day my food nourish'd me more—and the beautiful day pass'd well, And the next came with equal
joy—and with the next, at evening, came my friend; And that night, while all was still, I heard the
SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.
O blossoms of my blood!
WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND? WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?
MY LIKENESS! EARTH! my likeness!
That Shadow, my Likeness.
I remember I said, before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with reference
I have press'd through in my own right, I have sung the Body and the Soul—War and Peace have I sung,
And the songs of Life and of Birth—and shown that there are many births: I have offer'd my style to every
one—I have journey'd with confident step; While my pleasure is yet at the full, I whisper, So long!
4 My songs cease—I abandon them; From behind the screen where I hid, I advance person- ally personally
Covering all my lands! all my sea-shores lining! Flag of death!
Ah my silvery beauty! ah my woolly white and crim- son crimson !
Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty! My sacred one, my mother.
, with bends and chutes; And my Illinois fields, and my Kansas fields, and my fields of Missouri; The
My limbs, my veins dilate; The blood of the world has fill'd me full—my theme is clear at last: —Banner
O my soldiers twain! O my veterans, passing to burial!
have I also give you. 9 The moon gives you light, And the bugles and the drums give you music; And my
heart, O my soldiers, my veterans, My heart gives you love.
Bear forth to them, folded, my love —(Dear mariners!
for you I fold it here, in every leaf;) Speed on, my Book!
And so will some one, when I am dead and gone, write my life?
, I seek, for my own use, to trace out here.)
BEGINNING MY STUDIES.
WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, And my head on the pillow rests
vacant midnight passes, And through the stillness, through the dark, I hear, just hear, the breath of my
with eager calls, and orders of officers; While from some distant part of the field the wind wafts to my
or near, (rousing, even in dreams, a devilish exultation, and all the old mad joy, in the depths of my
galloping by, or on a full run; With the patter of small arms, the warning s-s-t of the rifles, (these in my
walks home late at night, or as I lay in my bed, they came upon me.
; That I was, I knew was of my body—and what I should be, I knew I should be of my body. 7 It is not
mast- hemm'd mast-hemm'd Manhattan, My river and sun-set, and my scallop-edg'd waves of flood-tide,
face, Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you.
loudly and musically call me by my nighest name! Live, old life!
O my father, It is so broad, it covers the whole sky! FATHER.
now the halyards have rais'd it, Side of my banner broad and blue—side of my starry banner, Discarding
eastern shore, and my western shore the same; And all between those shores, and my ever-running Mississippi
, with bends and chutes; And my Illinois fields, and my Kansas fields, and my fields of Missouri; The
My limbs, my veins dilate; The blood of the world has fill'd me full—my theme is clear at last: —Banner
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 so will some one, when I am dead and gone, write my life?
(As if any man really knew aught of my life; Why, even I myself, I often think, know little or noth-
ing nothing of my real life; Only a few hints—a few diffused, faint clues and indi- rections indirections
, I seek, for my own use, to trace out here.)
miner in California; Or rude in my home in Dakota's woods, my diet meat, my drink from the spring; Or
place, with my own day, here.
My comrade!
my intrepid nations! O I at any rate include you all with perfect love!
steamers steaming through my poems!
Inflating my throat—you, divine average! You, Earth and Life, till the last ray gleams, I sing.
Open mouth of my Soul, uttering gladness, Eyes of my Soul, seeing perfection, Natural life of me, faithfully
To prepare for sleep, for bed—to look on my rose- color'd rose-color'd flesh; To be conscious of my body
How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles around! How the clouds pass silently overhead!
sail'd down the Mississippi, As I wander'd over the prairies, As I have lived—As I have look'd through my
O Manhattan, my own, my peerless! O strongest you in the hour of danger, in crisis!
VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night: When you, my son and my comrade, dropt at my side that day
O my soldiers twain! O my veterans, passing to burial!
heart, O my soldiers, my veterans, My heart gives you love.
WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, And my head on the pillow rests
my blue veins leaving! O drops of me!
, from me falling—drip, bleeding drops, From wounds made to free you whence you were prison'd, From my
face—from my forehead and lips, From my breast—from within where I was conceal'd— press forth, red drops—confession
Scented Herbage of My Breast. SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.
SCENTED herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I yield, I write, to be perused best afterwards, Tomb-leaves
O blossoms of my blood!
grow up out of my breast! Spring away from the conceal'd heart there!
Do not remain down there so ashamed, herbage of my breast!
AS TOILSOME I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves, kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas
this sign left, On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, Bold, cautious, true, and my
Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering; Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of
the unknown soldier's grave—comes the inscription rude in Virginia's woods, Bold, cautious, true, and my
Give me the drench of my passions! Give me life coarse and rank!
with the dancers, and drink with the 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 condemn'd by others for deeds done; I will play a part no longer—Why should I exile myself from my
publish'd—from the pleasures, profits, eruditions, conformities, Which too long I was offering to feed my
soul; Clear to me, now, standards not yet publish'd—clear to me that my Soul, That the Soul of the man
substantial life, Bequeathing, hence, types of athletic love, Afternoon, this delicious Ninth-month, in my
forty-first year, I proceed, for all who are, or have been, young men, To tell the secret of my nights
Behold me where I pass—hear my voice—approach, Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my Body as I pass
; Be not afraid of my Body.
HERE the frailest leaves of me, and yet my strongest- lasting strongest-lasting : Here I shade and hide
my thoughts—I myself do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my other poems.
States awhile—but I cannot tell whither or how long; Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my
Open mouth of my Soul, uttering gladness, Eyes of my Soul, seeing perfection, Natural life of me, faithfully
To prepare for sleep, for bed—to look on my rose- color'd rose-color'd flesh; To be conscious of my body
How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles around! How the clouds pass silently overhead!
I remember I said, before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with reference
Receive me and my lover too—he will not let me go without him.
me, and takes the place of my lover, He rises with me silently from the bed.
my clothes were stolen while I was abed, Now I am thrust forth, where shall I run?
carefully darn my grandson's stockings.
How he informs against my brother and sister, and takes pay for their blood!
Long for my soul, hungering gymnastic, I devour'd what the earth gave me; Long I roam'd the woods of
O wild as my heart, and powerful!)
wonder, yet pensive and masterful; All the menacing might of the globe uprisen around me; Yet there with my
; —Long had I walk'd my cities, my country roads, through farms, only half satisfied; One doubt, nauseous
longer wait—I am fully satisfied—I am glutted; I have witness'd the true lightning—I have witness'd my
My Likeness! EARTH! MY LIKENESS! EARTH! my likeness!
Beginning My Studies. BEGINNING MY STUDIES.
BEGINNING my studies, the first step pleas'd me so much, The mere fact, consciousness—these forms—the
As I Lay With My Head in Your Lap, Camerado. As I Lay with my Head in your Lap, Camerado.
As I lay with my head in your lap, Camerado, The confession I made I resume—what I said to you and the
open air I resume: I know I am restless, and make others so; I know my words are weapons, full of danger
daughters, sons, preluding, The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being, Curious, here behold my
cycles, in their wide sweep, having brought me again, Amorous, mature—all beautiful to me—all wondrous; My
wondrous; Existing, I peer and penetrate still, Content with the present—content with the past, By my
knows, aught of them;) May-be seeming to me what they are, (as doubtless they indeed but seem,) as from my
changed points of view; —To me, these, and the like of these, are curiously an- swer'd answer'd by my
lovers, my dear friends; When he whom I love travels with me, or sits a long while holding me by the
appearances, or that of identity beyond the grave; But I walk or sit indifferent—I am satisfied, He ahold of my
Ere, departing, fade from my eyes your forests of bayo- nets bayonets ; Spirit of gloomiest fears and
steps keep time: —Spirit of hours I knew, all hectic red one day, but pale as death next day; Touch my
mouth, ere you depart—press my lips close!
Let them scorch and blister out of my chants, when you are gone; Let them identify you to the future,
What do my shouts amid lightnings and raging winds mean?)
songs in Sex, Offspring of my loins.
Behold me where I pass—hear my voice—approach, Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my Body as I pass
; Be not afraid of my Body.
all was still, ringing little bells last night under my ear.
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
and meat; I do not see any of it upon you to-day—or perhaps I am deceiv'd; I will run a furrow with my
plough—I will press my spade through the sod, and turn it up under- neath underneath ; I am sure I shall
transparent green-wash of the sea, which is so amorous after me, That it is safe to allow it to lick my
Italian tenor, singing at the opera —I heard the soprano in the midst of the quartet singing; …Heart of my
—you too I heard, murmuring low, through one of the wrists around my head; Heard the pulse of you, when
all was still, ringing little bells last night under my ear.
Weave In, Weave In, My Hardy Life. WEAVE IN, WEAVE IN, MY HARDY LIFE. WEAVE in!
weave in, my hardy life!
What Think You I Take My Pen in Hand? WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND?
WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?
Now List to My Morning's Romanza.
NOW LIST TO MY MORNING'S ROMANZA. 1 Now list to my morning's romanza—I tell the signs of the Answerer
And I stand before the young man face to face, and take his right hand in my left hand, and his left
hand in my right hand, And I answer for his brother, and for men, and I an- swer answer for him that
to the President at his levee, And he says, Good-day, my brother!
Who is he that would become my follower? Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections?
don'd abandon'd ; Therefore release me now, before troubling yourself any further—Let go your hand from my
those know me best who admire me, and vaunt- ingly vauntingly praise me, Nor will the candidates for my
love, (unless at most a very few,) prove victorious, Nor will my poems do good only—they will do just
(For what is my life, or any man's life, but a conflict with foes—the old, the incessant war?)
painful and choked articulations—you mean- nesses meannesses ; You shallow tongue-talks at tables, (my
resolutions, you racking angers, you smoth- er'd smother'd ennuis; Ah, think not you finally triumph—My
afterwards lose you. 2 (Now we have met, we have look'd, we are safe; Return in peace to the ocean, my
love; I too am part of that ocean, my love—we are not so much separated; Behold the great rondure—the
space—Know you, I salute the air, the ocean, and the land, Every day, at sundown, for your dear sake, my
SPONTANEOUS me, Nature, The loving day, the mounting sun, the friend I am happy with, The arm of my friend
hanging idly over my shoulder, The hill-side whiten'd with blossoms of the mountain ash, The same, late
en- circling encircling fingers—the young man all color'd, red, ashamed, angry; The souse upon me of my
chastity of paternity, to match the great chastity of maternity, The oath of procreation I have sworn—my
greed that eats me day and night with hungry gnaw, till I saturate what shall produce boys to fill my
trod, calling, I sing, for the last; (Not cities, nor man alone, nor war, nor the dead, But forth from my
vistas beyond—to the south and the north; To the leaven'd soil of the general western world, to attest my
Northern ice and rain, that began me, nourish me to the end; But the hot sun of the South is to ripen my
all—aplomb in the midst of irrational things, Imbued as they—passive, receptive, silent as they, Finding my
woods, or of any farm-life of These States, or of the coast, or the lakes, or Kanada, Me, wherever my
As I Lay with my Head in your Lap, Camerado.
As I lay with my head in your lap, Camerado, The confession I made I resume—what I said to you and the
open air I resume: I know I am restless, and make others so; I know my words are weapons, full of danger
O the sun of the world will ascend, dazzling, and take his height—and you too, O my Ideal, will surely
O lips of my soul, already becoming powerless! O ample and grand Presidentiads!
(I must not venture—the ground under my feet men- aces menaces me—it will not support me: O future too
I were nothing; From what I am determin'd to make illustrious, even if I stand sole among men; From my
The oath of the inseparableness of two together—of the woman that loves me, and whom I love more than my
warp and from the woof; (To talk to the perfect girl who understands me, To waft to her these from my
own lips—to effuse them from my own body;) From privacy—from frequent repinings alone; From plenty of
the right person not near; From the soft sliding of hands over me, and thrusting of fingers through my