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"What I experience or portray shall go from my composition without a shred of my composition.
You shall stand by my side and look in the mirror with me."
"I am the teacher of Athletes; He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own, proves the width of
my own; He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher; The boy I love, the same
I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the causes of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the friendship
That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be.
A morning glory at my window satisfies me more than the meta- physics metaphysics of books."
I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest music to them. Vivas to those who have failed.
In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my own face in the glass.
To-day my soul is full of the love of the body.
"Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul. ∗∗∗∗∗ While they discuss
The first doubt lodged in my mind against the claims of the Christian Church and ministry was the first
To my surprise and horror, they spent the whole time in regaling one another with smutty yarns.
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air.
My special word to thee. Hear me illustrious!
woodedge, thy touching-distant beams enough, or man matured, or young or old, as now to thee I launch my
lengthening shadows, prepare my starry nights.
over waves, towards the house of maternity, the land of migrations, look afar, Look off the shores of my
"My days I sing, and the land's:" this is the key-note.
I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the friendship
That I walk up my stoop!
The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows; The air tastes good to my palate.
of the poem (not including this line) were revised and published in The American in October 1880 as My
Still Night of Sleep—my bridal Night!
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds purer and clearer for my sake!
more foolish than the rest of the volume:— "I too am not a bit tamed—I too am untranslatable, I sound my
The last scud of day holds back for me, It flings my likeness, after the rest, and true as any, on the
I depart as air—I shake my white locks at the run-away sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it
Clean er shaved and more grammatical folks I call Mister, and lay the tips of my fingers inside their
headline in the morning papers, and pass the time as comfortably as the law allows.— But for the others, my
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd with iron or my ankles with iron?
do I exclude you, Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you and the leaves to rustle for you, do my
"The chief end I purpose to myself in all my labours," wrote Dean Swift, "is to vex the world rather
and flows": "This day, before dawn, I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded heaven, And I said to my
And my spirit said ' No .'"
suddenly,—reservedly, with a beautiful paucity of communication, even silently, such was its effect on my
forced to remember another son of the people, Robert Burns, and one involuntarily thinks of his "O, my
Love's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June: O my Love's like a melodie That's sweetly
(I loved a certain person ardently and my love was unreturned, Yet out of my love have I written these
hardly patience with a man who could offer the public lines like these, and call them poetry: "I tucked my
trowser-ends into my boots, and went and had a good time."
.— I assume this day, the whole debt of all I take my place by right among the sudorous or sweaty men
a handsomer man with be has better finer health and cleaner shaped limbs than I, who do business in my
night walkers And do no better for me— Who am a regular gentlemen or lady, With a marble broad stoop to my
And is the day here when I vote at the polls, One with the immigrant that last August strewed lime in my
though I lie so sleepy and sluggish, my tap is death" (1855, p. 74).
man who claims or takes the power to own another man as his property, stabs me in that the heart of my
own The one scratches me a little on the cheek forehead , the other draws his murderous razor through my
t T hat black and huge lethargic mass, my sportsmen, dull and sleepy as it seems, has holds the lightning
eventually titled "Song of Myself": "Buying drafts of Osiris and Isis and Belus and Brahma and Adonai, / In my
": "My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck on my distant and day-long ramble, / They rise together
these lines may relate to the following line in the poem ultimately titled "Song of Myself": "I take my
To the Poor— I have my place among you Is it nothing that I have preferred to be poor, rather than to
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
As every one is immortal, I know it is wonderful; but my eyesight is equally wonderful, and how I was
conceived in my mother's womb is equally wonderful.
I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy
All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own, Else it were time lost listening to me.
My Spirit sped back to
.; uva.00601 My hand will not hurt what
knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my
own And I know that the Spirit of God is the brother of my own And that all the men ever born are also
my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers And that a kelson of the creation is love." . . . .
Open your mouth gums my pardy, that I put send blow grit in you with one a breath ; Spread your palms
I beat and pound for the dead; I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them.
white locks at the runaway sun; I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags."
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life."
"Between my knees my forehead was,— My lips, drawn in, said not, Alas!
My hair was over in the grass, My naked ears heard the day pass."
Can my your sight behold them as with oysters eyes?
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake! Far-swooping elbowed earth!
the wounded person, My hurt turns livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.
Heat and smoke I inspired…I heard the yelling shouts of my comrades, I heard the distant click of their
I lie in the night air in my red shirt…the pervading hush is for my sake, Painless after all I lie, exhausted
"I, too, am not a bit tamed…I, too, am untransla- table untranslatable ; I sound my barbaric yawp over
— Bloss Branched Le Verdure , blossom branch , fruit and vine The irregular tapping of rain off the my
not smell— —I smell the your beautiful white roses— I kiss their soft your leafy lips—I reach slide my
To prepare for sleep, for bed—to look on my rose-coloured flesh, To be conscious of my body, so amorous
Have you learned the physiology, phrenology, politics, geography, pride, freedom, friendship, of my land
Earth of the limpid grey of clouds, brighter and clearer for my sake! Far-swooping elbowed Earth!
His text is—and it is a stalwart text: "I stand in my place, with my own day, here!" II.
"I resist anything better than my own diversity," he says.
Clifford in his essay on "Cosmic Emotion:" "I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled far-
"My sun has his sun, and round him obediently wheels, He joins with his partners a group of superior
Hence from my shuddering sight to never more return that Show of blacken'd mutilated corpses!
first several lines of that poem (not including the line in question) were revised and published as My
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
make the only growth by which I can be appreciated, I reject none, accept all, then reporduce all in my
For the great Idea, That, O my brethren, that is the mission of poets.
.— (He could say) I know well enough the perpetual myself in my poems—but it is because the universe
camping with lumber-men, Along the ruts of the turnpike . . . along the dry gulch and rivulet bed, Hoeing my
gold-digging . . . girdling the trees of a new purchase, Scorched ankle-deep by the hot sand . . . hauling my
"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! take them South, and take them North! Surround them, East and West!
"O my comrade! O you and me at last, and us two only! O to level occupations and the sexes!
If he worships any particular thing, he says it shall be "some of the spread of my own body."
One long passage commences thus: "O my body!
first poem of the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass , later called "Song of Myself": "I do not trouble my
The first several lines of the notebook (not including this line) were revised and published as "My Picture-Gallery
just granting his request, with great commiseration, when an old lady from the gallery cries out "O my
He rejoices to feel that he is "not stuck up and is in his [my] place," for "The moth and the fish eggs
How perfect is my soul! How perfect the earth and the minutest thing upon it!
Oh, my soul! If I realize you I have satisfaction. Laws of the earth and air!
to the President at his levee, / And he says Good day my brother, to Cudge that hoes in the sugarfield
of the poem (not including this line) were revised and published in The American in October 1880 as "My
For illustration, he gives utterance to phrases like this: "I effuse my flesh in eddies and drift it
He himself says, "Nor will my poems do good only, they will do just as much harm, perhaps more."
with me about God; I can yet just begin to comprehend nothing more wonderful than so tremendous as my
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds, brighter and clearer for my sake! Far swooping elbowed earth!
If I worship any particular thing, it shall be some of the spread of my own body."—p. 55.
If I worship any particular thing, it shall be some of the spread of my own body."—p. 55.
The oppression of my heart is not fitful and has no pangs; but a torpor like that of some stagnant pool
Around me are my brother men, merry and jovial.
—Ah, if the flesh could but act what my rational mind, in its moments of clear inspiration aspires to
.—" He is a painter, carver and sculptor: "A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my
look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books : ; "You shall not look through my
beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough; To pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my
I sound triumphal drums for the dead—I fling thro' my embouchures the loudest and gayest music for them
It still maintains: I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable; I sound my barbaric yawp over
It seem to me more than all the print I have read in my life."
head at nightfall, and he is fain to say, "I too am not a bit tamed—I too am untranslatable; I sound my