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O my body, that gives me identity! O my organs !
Underfoot, the divine soil— Overhead, the sun.— Afford foothold to my poems, you Nourish my poems, Earth
In Poem The earth, that is my model of poems model ?
The body of a man, is my model—I do not reject what I find in my body—I am not ashamed—Why should I be
My Darling (Now I am maternal— a child bearer— bea have from my womb borne a child, and observe it For
levee in life,— After death Now when I am looked back upon, I will I hold levee, after death, I lean on my
left elbow—I take ten thousand lovers, one after another, by my right hand.— I have all lives, all effects
O longings for my dear home! O soft and sunny airs! O pensive!
O my Soul! O lips becoming tremulous, powerless! O centuries, centuries yet ahead!
Bent to the very earth, here preceding what follows, Terrified with myself that I have dared to open my
whose echoes recoil upon me, I have not once had the least idea who or what I am, But that before all my
And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me!
How perfect is my Soul! How perfect the earth, and the minutest thing upon it!
My Soul! if I realize you, I have satisfaction, Animals and vegetables!
I cannot define my satisfaction, yet it is so, I cannot define my life, yet it is so.
hitherto published—from the pleasures, profits, conformities, Which too long I was offering to feed to my
Soul Clear to me now, standards not yet published— clear to me that my Soul, That the Soul of the man
substantial life, Bequeathing, hence, types of athletic love, 29* 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
when you refer to me, mind not so much my poems, Nor speak of me that I prophesied of The States, and
I will take you down underneath this impassive exterior—I will tell you what to say of me: Publish my
name and hang up my picture as that of the tenderest lover, The friend, the lover's portrait, of whom
WHEN I heard at the close of the day how my name had been received with plaudits in the capitol, still
it was not a happy night for me that fol- lowed followed ; And else, when I caroused, 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 nourished me more—And the beautiful day passed 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
down-balls, nor perfumes, nor the high rain-emitting clouds, are borne through the open air, Any more than my
, from me falling—drip, bleeding drops, From wounds made to free you whence you were prisoned, From my
face—from my forehead and lips, From my breast—from within where I was con- cealed concealed —Press
May-be one is now reading this who knows some wrong-doing of my past life, Or may-be a stranger is reading
this who has secretly loved me, Or may-be one who meets all my grand assumptions and egotisms with derision
in the room where I eat or sleep, I should be satisfied, And if the corpse of any one I love, or if my
CITY of my walks and joys!
nor the bright win- dows windows , with goods in them, Nor to converse with learned persons, or bear my
your fre- quent frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love, Offering me the response of my own—these
Behold this swarthy and unrefined face—these gray eyes, This beard—the white wool, unclipt upon my neck
, My brown hands, and the silent manner of me, with- out without charm; Yet comes one, a Manhattanese
SCENTED herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I yield, I write, to be perused best afterwards, Tomb-leaves
O blossoms of my blood!
O I think it is not for life I am chanting here my chant of lovers—I think it must be for Death, For
Grow up out of my breast! Spring away from the concealed heart there!
Do not remain down there so ashamed, herbage of my breast!
leaves upon it, and twined around it a little moss, And brought it away—and I have placed it in sight in my
room, It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear friends, (For I believe lately I think of little
or a girl with me, I ate with you, and slept with you—your body has become not yours only, nor left my
body mine only, You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass—you take of my beard,
it seems to me if I could know those men better, I should become attached to them, as I do to men in my
own lands, It seems to me they are as wise, beautiful, benevolent, as any in my own lands; O I know
Who is he that would become my follower?
Who would sign himself a candidate for my affec- tions affections ? Are you he?
doned abandoned ; Therefore release me now, before troubling yourself any further—Let go your hand from my
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
WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?
my likeness!
PRIMEVAL my love for the woman I love, O bride ! O wife !
Then separate, as disembodied, the purest born, The ethereal, the last athletic reality, my consolation
, I ascend—I float in the regions of your love, O man, O sharer of my roving life.
is certain, one way or another, Doubtless I could not have perceived the universe, or written one of my
and then in the silence, Alone I had thought—yet soon a silent troop gathers around me, Some walk by my
side, and some behind, and some embrace my arms or neck, They, the spirits of friends, dead or alive—thicker
lilac, with a branch of pine, Here, out of my pocket, some moss which I pulled off a live-oak in Florida
THAT shadow, my likeness, that goes to and fro, seek- ing seeking a livelihood, chattering, chaffering
it where it flits, How often I question and doubt whether that is really me; But in these, and among my
lovers, and carolling my songs, O I never doubt whether that is really me.
I meant that you should discover me so, by my faint indirections, And I, when I meet you, mean to discover
HERE my last words, and the most baffling, Here the frailest leaves of me, and yet my strongest- lasting
, Here I shade down and hide my thoughts—I do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my
you read these, I, that was visible, am become invisible; Now it is you, compact, visible, realizing my
There shall from me be a new friendship—It shall be called after my name, It shall circulate through
other shall be invincible, They shall finally make America completely victo- rious victorious , in my
NOT heaving from my ribbed breast only, Not in sighs at night, in rage, dissatisfied with myself, Not
in those long-drawn, ill-suppressed sighs, Not in many an oath and promise broken, Not in my wilful
savage soul's volition, Not in the subtle nourishment of the air, Not in this beating and pounding at my
sleep, Nor the other murmurs of these incredible dreams of every day, Nor in the limbs and senses of my
O pulse of my life! Need I that you exist and show yourself, any more than in these songs.
aught of them;) May-be they only seem 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 answered 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
Then my lands engrossed me—Lands of the prairies, Ohio's land, the southern savannas, engrossed me—For
to enclose all, it came to me to strike up the songs of the New World—And then I be- lieved believed my
knowledge, and the grandeur of The States, and the example of heroes, no more, I am indifferent to my
heavy-hearted, Hours of the dusk, when I withdraw to a lonesome and unfrequented spot, seating myself, leaning my
face in my hands; Hours sleepless, deep in the night, when I go forth, speeding swiftly the country
(I am ashamed—but it is useless—I am what I am;) Hours of my torment—I wonder if other men ever have
untrodden and mouldy—I see no longer any axe upon it, I see the mighty and friendly emblem of the power of my
I do not vaunt my love for you, I have what I have. The axe leaps!
response, Take what I have then, (saying fain,) take the pay you approached for, Take the white tears of my
COME closer to me, Push closer, my lovers, and take the best I possess, Yield closer and closer, and
Neither a servant nor a master am I, I take no sooner a large price than a small price— I will have my
become so for your sake, If you remember your foolish and outlawed deeds, do you think I cannot remember my
are, I am this day just as much in love with them as you, Then I am in love with you, and with all my
friendly companions, I intend to reach them my hand, and make as much of them as I do of men and women
New Orleans, San Francisco, The departing ships, when the sailors heave at the capstan; Evening—me in my
room—the setting sun, The setting summer sun shining in my open window, showing me flies, suspended,
, futurity, In space, the sporades, the scattered islands, the stars —on the firm earth, the lands, my
less in myself than the whole of the Manna- hatta Mannahatta in itself, Singing the song of These, my
ever united lands —my body no more inevitably united, part to part, and made one identity, any more
myself make the only growth by which I can be appreciated, I reject none, accept all, reproduce all in my
Have you studied out MY LAND, its idioms and men?
What is this you bring my America? Is it uniform with my country?
Will it absorb into me as I absorb food, air, nobility, meanness—to appear again in my strength, gait
own Soul or defiled my body, I have claimed nothing to myself which I have not carefully claimed for
sake, Of departing—of the growth of a mightier race than any yet, Of myself, soon, perhaps, closing up 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
Then my realities, What else is so real as mine?
done and gone, we remain, There is no final reliance but upon us, Democracy rests finally upon us, (I, my
and let one line of my poems contradict another! Let the people sprawl with yearning aimless hands!
Let him who is without my poems be assassinated!
WITH antecedents, With my fathers and mothers, and the accumulations of past ages, With all which, had
In the name of These States, and in your and my name, the Past, And in the name of These States, and
in your and my name, the Present time.
SPLENDOR of falling day, floating and filling me, Hour prophetic—hour resuming the past, Inflating 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- colored flesh, To be conscious of my body, so amorous
How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles around! How the clouds pass silently overhead!
sailed down the Mississippi, As I wandered over the prairies, As I have lived—As I have looked through my
My Dear Walt Through the stupidity of Lewis I did not receive the dispatch until late in the afternoon
I went directly to my frame makers, the frame will be done to-morrow, (it is a beauty) and if you wish
It is my wish it should be seen in Boston. Let me know how you propose to introduce it.
Calamus 18. p 363 City of my walks and joys!
little you h You city : what do y you repay me for my daily walks joys Not these your crowded rows of
delicious athletic love fresh as nature's air and herbage— —offering me full repa respon ds se equal of my
my own, These repay me—Lovers, continual Lovers continu only repay me.— This manuscript is a draft of
City of my walks and joys
O blossoms of my blood!
face—from my forehead and lips, From my breast—from within where I was con- cealed concealed —Press
CITY of my walks and joys!
my likeness!
, Here I shade down and hide my thoughts—I do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my
Have you studied out MY LAND, its idioms and men?
What is this you bring my America? Is it uniform with my country?
in your and my name, the Present time.
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- colored flesh, To be conscious of my body, so amorous
36 DESPAIRING cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night, The sad voice of Death—the call of my
alarmed, uncertain, This sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my
O MY children! O mates!
O my body!
, Or that touches my face, or leans against me.)
songs in sex, Offspring of my loins. 13.
voice—approach, Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body.
body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other flesh, to renew me
and which are my miracles?
friends, but listen to my enemies—as I my- self myself do; I charge you, too, forever, reject those
WHO learns my lesson complete?
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chained with iron, or my ankles with iron?