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BEHOLD this swarthy face—these gray eyes, This beard—the white wool, unclipt upon my neck, My brown hands

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

with me, I ate with you, and slept with you—your body has be- come 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,

; And it seems to me if I could know those men, I should become attached to them, as I do to men in my

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.

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?

My Likeness! EARTH! MY LIKENESS! EARTH! my likeness!

—Then separate, as disembodied, or another born, 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.

no unreturn'd love—the pay is certain, one way or another; (I loved a certain person ardently, and my

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.

I meant that you should discover me so, by my faint indirections; And I, when I meet you, mean to discover

you read these, I, that was visible, am become invisible; Now it is you, compact, visible, realizing my

1 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

I have run through what any river or strait of the globe has run through; I have taken my stand on the

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 the swarm of flies,

, futurity, In space, the sporades, the scatter'd islands, the stars— on the firm earth, the lands, my

thereof—and no less in myself than the whole of the Mannahatta in itself, Singing the song of These, my

my lands are inevitably united, and made ONE IDENTITY; Nativities, climates, the grass of the great

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!

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 detain'd!

I give you my hand!

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.

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

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!

WITH ANTECEDENTS. 1 WITH antecedents; With my fathers and mothers, and the accumulations of past ages

to-day and America could no-how be better than they are. 3 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.

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!

BY the City Dead-House, by the gate, As idly sauntering, wending my way from the clangor, I curious pause—for

take one breath from my tremulous lips; Take one tear, dropt aside as I go, for thought of you, Dead

CAROL OF OCCUPATIONS. 1 COME closer to me; Push close, my lovers, and take the best I possess!

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 outlaw'd 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

List close, my scholars dear!

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!

shame or the need of shame. 2 Air, soil, water, fire—these are words; I myself am a word with them—my

qualities interpene- trate 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

(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

indifferent , but trembling with age and your unheal'd wounds, you mounted the scaffold;) —I would sing in my

know not why, but I loved you…(and so go forth little song, Far over sea speed like an arrow, carrying my

love, and drop these lines at his feet;) —Nor forget I to sing of the wonder, the ship as she swam up my

bay, Well-shaped and stately the Great Eastern swam up my bay, she was 600 feet long, Her, moving swiftly

love, spit their salutes; When the fire-flashing guns have fully alerted me— when heaven-clouds canopy my

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

4 See, my cantabile!

chant, projected, a thousand blooming cities yet, in time, on those groups of sea-islands; I chant my

sail-ships and steam-ships threading the archipelagoes; I chant my stars and stripes fluttering in the

I am determin'd to press my way toward you; Sound your voice!

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

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

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

DRUM-TAPS. 1 FIRST, O songs, for a prelude, Lightly strike on the stretch'd tympanum, pride and joy in my

O Manhattan, my own, my peerless! O strongest you in the hour of danger, in crisis!

for our pre- lude prelude , songs of soldiers,) How Manhattan drum-taps led. 2 Forty years had I in my

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

yours—yet peace no more; In peace I chanted peace, but now the drum of war is mine; War, red war, is my

Why do you tremble, and clutch my hand so convul- sively convulsively ?

Aye, this is the ground; My blind eyes, even as I speak, behold it re-peopled from graves; The years

night of that, mist lifting, rain ceasing, Silent as a ghost, while they thought they were sure of him, my

him at the river-side, Down by the ferry, lit by torches, hastening the embar- cation embarcation ; My

But when my General pass'd me, As he stood in his boat, and look'd toward the coming sun, I saw something

fire—the silence; Like a phantom far or near an occasional figure moving; The shrubs and trees, (as I left my

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

smoke; By these, crowds, groups of forms, vaguely I see, on the floor, some in the pews laid down; At my

staunch the blood temporarily, (the youngster's face is white as a lily;) Then before I depart I sweep my

resume as I chant—I see again the forms, I smell the odor; Then hear outside the orders given, Fall in, my

A SIGHT in camp in the day-break grey and dim, As from my tent I emerge so early, sleepless, As slow

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

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

the air I breathed froze me; A thick gloom fell through the sunshine and darken'd me; Must I change my

said I to my- self myself ; Must I indeed learn to chant the cold dirges of the baf- fled baffled ?

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

without noise, and be of strong heart.) 3 Bearing the bandages, water and sponge, Straight and swift to my

knee, the wound in the abdo- men abdomen ; These and more I dress with impassive hand—(yet deep in my

a fire, a burning flame.) 5 Thus in silence, in dreams' projections, Returning, resuming, I thread my

world, a rural domestic life; Give me to warble spontaneous songs, reliev'd, 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

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

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.

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

Death and Night, inces- santly incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world: …For my

where he lies, white-faced and still, in the coffin —I draw near; I bend down, and touch lightly with 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,

glance upward out of this page, studying you, dear friend, whoever you are;) How solemn the thought of 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