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HERE the frailest leaves of me and yet my 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.

Fascinated, my eyes reverting from the south, dropt, to follow those slender windrows, Chaff, straw,

O baffled, balk'd, bent to the very earth, Oppress'd with myself that I have dared to open my mouth,

whose echoes recoil upon me I have not once had the least idea who or what I am, But that before all my

sight of the sea taking advantage of me to dart upon me and sting me, Because I have dared to open my

Me and mine, loose windrows, little corpses, Froth, snowy white, and bubbles, (See, from my dead lips

hitherto publish'd, from the pleasures, profits, 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

early in the morning, Walking forth from the bower refresh'd with sleep, 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

I had my choice when I commenc'd.

My Book and I—what a period we have presumed to span!

my own distinctive era and surroundings, America, Democracy?)

I felt it all as positively then in my young days as I do now in my old ones; to formulate a poem whose

But my volume is a candidate for the future.

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

Earth, My Likeness. EARTH, MY LIKENESS.

EARTH, my likeness, Though you look so impassive, ample and spheric there, I now suspect that is not

Beginning My Studies. BEGINNING MY STUDIES.

BEGINNING my studies the first step pleas'd me so much, The mere fact consciousness, these forms, the

Leaves of Grass (1891) COME, said my Soul, Such verses for my Body let us write, (for we are one,) That

Ever and ever yet the verses owning—as, first, I here and now, Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my

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 deceiv'd, I will run a furrow with my plough,

I will press my spade through the sod and turn it up underneath, I am sure I shall expose some of the

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

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

, from entirely changed points of view; To me these and the like of these are curiously 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 bayonets; Spirit of gloomiest fears and doubts, (yet

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, Leave me your pulses of rage—bequeath them to me—fill me

with currents convulsive, Let them scorch and blister out of my chants when you are gone, Let them identify

AH, whispering, something again, unseen, Where late this heated day thou enterest at my window, door,

utterance to my heart beyond the rest—and this is of them,) So sweet thy primitive taste to breathe within—thy

soothing fingers on my face and hands, Thou, messenger-magical strange bringer to body and spirit of

, now gone—haply from endless store, God-sent, (For thou art spiritual, Godly, most of all known to my

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

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

songs in Sex, Offspring of my loins.

was still ringing little bells last night under my ear.

voice, approach, Touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body

Besides, is not the verse-field, as originally plann'd by my theory, now sufficiently illustrated—and

—(indeed amid no loud call or market for my sort of poetic utterance.)

defiance, to that kind of well-put interrogation, here comes this little cluster, and conclusion of my

collated, it is worth printing (certainly I have nothing fresh to write)—I while away the hours of my

72d year—hours of forced confinement in my den—by putting in shape this small old age collation: Last

THE SLEEPERS. 1 I WANDER all night in my vision, Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping

I stand in the dark with drooping eyes by the worst-suffering and the most restless, I pass my hands

He whom I call answers me and takes the place of my lover, He rises with me silently from the bed.

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

darn my grandson's stockings.

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.

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?

Weave In, My Hardy Life. WEAVE IN, MY HARDY LIFE.

WEAVE in, weave in, my hardy life, Weave yet a soldier strong and full for great campaigns to come, Weave

dear brothers' and sisters' sake, for the soul's sake, Wending my way through the homes of men, rich

words, mine only, Young and strong I pass knowing well I am destin'd myself to an early death; But my

charity has no death—my wisdom dies not, neither early nor late, And my sweet love bequeath'd here and

side, warlike, equal with any, real as any, Nor time nor change shall ever change me or my words. 4

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

poverties, wincings, and sulky retreats, Ah you foes that in conflict have overcome me, (For what is my

You toil of painful and choked articulations, you meannesses, You shallow tongue-talks at tables, (my

Ah think not you finally triumph, my real self has yet to come forth, It shall yet march forth o'ermastering

Good-Bye My Fancy. GOOD-BYE MY FANCY.

GOOD-BYE * my fancy—(I had a word to say, But 'tis not quite the time—The best of any man's word or say

peering, dallying with all—war, peace, day and night absorbing, Never even for one brief hour abandoning my

I sing of life, yet mind me well of death: To-day shadowy Death dogs my steps, my seated shape, and has

my special word to thee. Hear me illustrious!

wood edge, thy touching-distant beams enough, Or man matured, or young or old, as now to thee I launch my

launch thy subtle dazzle and thy strength for these, Prepare the later afternoon of me myself—prepare my

lengthen- ing lengthening shadows, Prepare my starry nights.

Who is he that would become my follower? Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections?

be abandon'd, Therefore release me now before troubling yourself any further, let go your hand from my

acquire it, Nor do those know me best who admire me and 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

As I ponder'd in silence, Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long, A Phantom arose before

Bear forth to them folded my love, (dear mariners, for you I fold it here in every leaf;) Speed on my

And so will some one when I am dead and gone write my life?

my real life, Only a few hints, a few diffused faint clews and indirections I seek for my own use to

BEGINNING MY STUDIES.

TO the leaven'd soil they trod calling I sing for the last, (Forth from my tent emerging for good, loosing

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 fully ripen my

my special word to thee. Hear me illustrious!

lengthen- ing lengthening shadows, Prepare my starry nights.

my city! ALL IS TRUTH.

WEAVE IN, MY HARDY LIFE.

Then my realities; What else is so real as mine?

refreshing night the walks of Paradise, I scent the grass, the moist air and the roses; Thy song expands my

and for my sensuous eyes, Bring the old pageants, show the feudal world.

the terrible tableaus. 7 O trumpeter, methinks I am myself the instrument thou playest, Thou melt'st my

heart, my brain—thou movest, drawest, chan- gest changest them at will; And now thy sullen notes send

soul, renew its languishing faith and hope, Rouse up my slow belief, give me some vision of the future

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 sepa- rated separated , Behold the great rondure, the cohesion

little space—know you I salute the air, the ocean and the land, Every day at sundown for your dear sake my

moments—when you come upon me—ah you are here now, Give me now libidinous joys only, Give me the drench of my

and drink with the drinkers, The echoes ring with our indecent calls, I pick out some low person for my

one condemn'd by others for deeds done, I will play a part no longer, why should I exile myself from 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 hillside whiten'd with blossoms of the mountain ash, The same late

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

trembling encircling fingers, the young man all color'd, 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

YET, yet, ye downcast hours, I know ye also, Weights of lead, how ye clog and cling at my ankles, Earth

Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me, The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarm'd, uncertain

, The sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, Come tell me where I am speeding, tell me my destination

current songs of beauty, peace, decorum, I cast a reminiscence—(likely 'twill offend you, I heard it in my

their sense, their ears, towards his murmuring, half- caught half-caught words: "Let me return again to my

Give me my old wild battle-life again!"

A SIGHT in camp in the daybreak gray and dim, As from my tent I emerge so early sleepless, As slow I

Who are you my dear comrade? Then to the second I step—and who are you my child and darling?

noise of the world a rural domestic life, Give me to warble spontaneous songs recluse by myself, for my

excitement, and rack'd by the war-strife,) These to procure incessantly asking, rising in cries from my

heart, While yet incessantly asking still I adhere to my city, Day upon day and year upon year O city

enrich'd of soul, you give me forever faces; (O I see what I sought to escape, confronting, reversing my

cries, I see my own soul trampling down what it ask'd for.) 2 Keep your splendid silent sun, Keep your

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

you, I do not sound your name, but I understand you, I specify you with joy O my comrade to salute you

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

that love me, (Arous'd and angry, I'd thought to beat the alarum, and urge relentless war, But soon my

fingers fail'd me, my face droop'd and I resign'd myself, To sit by the wounded and soothe them, or

2 O maidens and young men I love and that love me, What you ask of my days those the strangest and sudden

Bearing the bandages, water and sponge, Straight and swift to my wounded I go, Where they lie on the

thigh, the knee, the wound in the abdomen, These and more I dress with impassive hand, (yet deep in my

COME my tan-faced children, Follow well in order, get your weapons ready, Have you your pistols?

O my breast aches with tender love for all!

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

I call to the world to distrust the accounts of my friends, but listen to my enemies, as I myself do,

name, the Past, And in the name of these States and in your and my name, the Present time.

After the dazzle of day is gone, Only the dark, dark night shows to my eyes the stars; After the clangor

of organ majestic, or chorus, or perfect band, Silent, athwart my soul, moves the symphony true.

As I sit writing here, sick and grown old, Not my least burden is that dulness of the years, querilities

, Ungracious glooms, aches, lethargy, constipation, whimpering ennui, May filter in my daily songs.

salutes, When the fire-flashing guns have fully alerted me, and heaven- clouds heaven-clouds canopy my

To us, my city, Where our tall-topt marble and iron beauties range on opposite sides, to walk in the

See my cantabile!

, I chant the world on my Western sea, I chant copious the islands beyond, thick as stars in the sky,

sail-ships and steam-ships threading the archipelagoes, My stars and stripes fluttering in the wind,

My Canary Bird. MY CANARY BIRD.

Queries to My Seventieth Year. QUERIES TO MY SEVENTIETH YEAR.

Deliriate, thus prelude what is generated, offering these, offering myself, Bathing myself, bathing my

songs in Sex, Offspring of my loins.

My Picture-Gallery. MY PICTURE-GALLERY.

Bear forth to them folded my love, (dear mariners, for you I fold it here in every leaf;) Speed on my

spread your white sails my little bark athwart the imperious waves, Chant on, sail on, bear o'er the

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.)

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

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

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

my city!