1.
In paths untrodden,
In the growth by margins of pond waters,
Escaped from the life that exhibits itself,
From all the standards hitherto published -- from the pleasures, profits, conformities,
Which too long I was offering to feed my Soul;
Clear to me now, standards not yet published -- clear to me that my Soul,
That the Soul of the man I speak for, feeds, rejoices only in comrades;
Here, by myself, away from the clank of the world,
Tallying and talked to here by tongues aromatic,
No longer abashed -- for in this secluded spot I can respond as I would not dare elsewhere,
Strong upon me the life that does not exhibit itself, yet contains all the rest,
Resolved to sing no songs to-day but those of manly attachment,
Projecting them along that 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 and days,
To celebrate the need of comrades.
2.
Scented herbage of my breast,
Leaves from you I yield, I write, to be perused best afterwards,
Tomb-leaves, body leaves, growing up above me, above death,
Perennial roots, tall leaves -- O the winter shall not freeze you, delicate leaves,
Every year shall you bloom again -- Out from where you retired, you shall emerge again;
O I do not know whether many, passing by, will discover you, or inhale your faint odor -- but I believe a few will;
O slender leaves! O blossoms of my blood! I permit you to tell, in your own way, of the heart that is under you,
O burning and throbbing -- surely all will one day be accomplished;
O I do not know what mean, there underneath yourselves -- you are not happiness,
You are often more bitter than I can bear -- you burn and sting me,
Yet you are very beautiful to me, you faint-tinged roots -- you make me think of Death,
Death is beautiful from you -- (what indeed is beautiful, except Death and Love?)
O I think it is not for life I am chanting here my chant of lovers -- I think it must be for Death,
For how calm, how solemn it grows, to ascend to the atmosphere of lovers,
Death or life I am then indifferent -- my soul declines to prefer,
I am not sure but the high Soul of lovers welcomes death most;
Indeed, O Death, I think now these leaves mean precicely the same as you mean;
Grow up taller, sweet leaves, that I may see! Grow up out of my breast!
Spring away from the concealed heart there!
Do not fold yourselves so in you pink-tinged roots, timid leaves!
Do not remain down there so ashamed, herbage of my breast!
Come, I am determined to unbare this broad breast of mine -- I have long enough stifled and choked;
Emblematic and capricious blades, I leave you -- now you serve me not,
Away! I will say what I have to say, by itself,
I will escape from the sham that was proposed to me,
I will sound myself and comrades only -- I will never again utter a call, only their call,
I will raise, with it, immortal reverberations through The States,
I will give an example to lovers, to take permanent shape and will through The States;
Through me shall the words be said to make death exhilarating,
Give me your tone therefore, O Death, that I may accord with it,
Give me yourself -- for I see that you belong to me now above all, and are folded together above all -- you Love and Death are,
Nor will I allow you to balk me any more with what I was calling life,
For now it is conveyed to me that you are the purports essential,
That you hide in these shifting forms of life, for reasons -- and that they are mainly for you,
That you, beyond them, come forth, to remain, the real reality,
That behind the mask of materials you patiently wait, no matter how long,
That you will one day, perhaps, take control of all,
That you will perhaps dissipate this entire show of appearance,
That may be you are what it is all for -- but it does not last so very long,
But you will last very long.
3.
1.
Whoever you are holding me now in hand,
Without one thing all will be useless,
I give you fair warning, before you attempt me further,
I am not what you supposed, but far different.
2.
Who is he that would become my follower?
Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections? Are you he?
3.
The way is suspicious -- the result slow, uncertain, may-be destructive;
You would have to give up all else -- I alone would expect to be your God, sole and exclusive,
Your novitiate would even then be long and exhausting,
The whole past theory of your life, and all conformity to the lives around you, would have to be abandoned;
Therefore release me now, before troubling yourself any further -- Let go your hand from my shoulders,
Put me down, and depart on your way.
4.
Or else, only by stealth, in some wood, for trial,
Or back of a rock, in open air,
(for in any roofed room of a house I emerge not -- nor in company,
And in the libraries I lie as one dumb, a gawk, or unborn, or dead,)
But just possibly with you on a high hill -- first watching lest any person, for miles around, approach unawares,
Or possibly with you sailing at sea, or on the beach of the sea, or some quiet island,
Here to put your lips upon mine I permit you,
With the comrade's long-dwelling kiss, or the new husband's kiss,
For I am the new husband, and I am the comrade.
5.
Or, if you will, thrusting me beneath your clothing,
Where I may feel the throbs of your heart, or rest upon your hip,
Carry me when you go forth over land and sea;
For thus, merely touching you, is enough -- is best
And thus, touching you, would I silently sleep and be carried eternally.
6.
But these leaves conning, you con at peril,
For these leaves, and me, you will not understand,
They will elude you at first, and still more afterward -- I will certainly elude you,
Even while you should think you had unquestionably caught me, behold!
Already you see I have escaped from you.
7.
For it is not for what I have put into it that I have written this book,
Nor is it by reading it you will 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 much evil, perhaps more,
For all is useless without that which you may guess at many times and not hit -- that which I hinted at,
Therefore release me and depart on your way.
4
These I, singing in spring, collect for lovers,
(For who but I should understand lovers, and all their sorrow and joy?
And who but I should be the poet of comrades?)
Collecting, I traverse the garden, the world -- but soon I pass the gates,
Now along the pond-side -- now wading in a little, fearing not the wet,
Now by the post-and-rail fences, where the old stones thrown there, picked from the fields, have accumulated,
Wild-flowers and vines and weeds come up through the stones, and partly cover them -- Beyond these I pass,
Far, far in the forest, before I think where I get,
Solitary, smelling the earthly smell, stopping now and then in 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 they come, a great crowd, and I in the middle,
Collecting, dispensing, singing in spring, there I wander with them,
Plucking something for tokens -- something for these, till I hit upon a theme -- tossing toward whoever is near me,
Here! lilac, with a branch of pine,
Here, out of my pocket, some moss which I pulled off a live-oak in Florida, as it hung trailing down,
Here, some pinks and laurel leaves, and a handful of sage,
And here what I now draw from the water, wading in the pond-side,
(O here I last saw him that tenderly loves me -- and returns again, never to separate from me,
And this, O this shall henceforth be the token of comrades -- this calamus-root shall,
Interchange it, youths, with each other! Let none render it back!)
And twigs of maple, and a bunch of wild orange, and chestnut,
And stems of currents, and plum-blows, and the aromatic cedar;
These I, compassed around by a thick cloud of spirits,
Wandering, point to, or touch as I pass, or throw them loosely from me,
Indicating to each one what he shall have -- giving something to each,
But what I drew from the water by the pond-side, that I reserve,
I will give of it -- but only them that love, as I myself am capable of loving.
5.
1.
States!
Were you looking to be held together by the lawyers?
By an agreement on a paper? Or by arms?
2.
Away!
I arrive, bringing these, beyond all the forces of courts and arms,
These! to hold you together as firmly as the earth itself is held together.
3.
The old breath of life, ever new,
Here! I pass it by contact to you, America.
4.
O mother! have you done much for me?
Behold, there shall from me be much done for you.
5.
There shall from me be a new friendship -- It shall be called after my name,
It shall circulate through The States, indifferent of place,
It shall twist and intertwist them through and around each other -- Compact shall they be, showing new signs,
Affection shall solve every one of the problems of freedom,
Those who love each other shall be invincible,
They shall finally make America completely victorious, in my name.
6.
One from Massachusetts shall be comrade to a Missourian,
One from Maine or Vermont, and a Carolinian and an Oregonese, shall be friends triune, more precious to each other than all the riches of the earth.
7.
To Michigan shall be wafted perfume from Florida,
To Mannahatta from Cuba or Mexico
Not the perfume of flowers, but sweeter, and wafted beyond death.
8.
No danger shall balk Columbia's lovers,
If need be, a thousand shall sternly immolate themselves for one,
The Kanuck shall be willing to lay down his life for the Kansian, and the Kansian for the Kanuck, on due need.
9.
It shall be customary in all directions, in the houses and streets, to see manly affection,
The departing brother or friend shall salute the remaining brother or friend with a kiss.
10.
There shall be innovations,
There shall be countless linked hands -- namely, the Northeasterner's, and those of the interior, and all their brood,
These shall be masters of the world under a new power,
They shall laugh to scorn the attacks of all the remainder of the world.
11.
The most dauntless and rude shall touch face to face lightly,
The dependance of liberty shall be lovers,
The continuance of Equality shall be comrades.
12.
These shall tie and band stronger than hoops of iron,
I, extatic, O partners! O lands! henceforth with the love of lovers tie you.
13.
I will make the continent indissoluble,
I will make the most splendid race the sun ever yet shone upon,
I will make divine magnetic lands.
14.
I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers of America, and along the shores of the great lakes, and all over the prairies,
I will make inseparable cities, with their arms about each other's necks.
15.
For you these, from me, O Democracy, to serve you ma femme!
For you! for you, I am trilling these songs.
6.
Not heaving from my ribbed breast only,
Not in sighs at night, in rage, dissatisfied with myself,
Not in those lang-drawn, ill-suppressed sighs,
Not in many an oath and promise broken,
Not in my willful and salvage soul's volition,
Not in the subtle nourishment of the air,
Not in this beating and pounding at my temples and wrists,
Not in the curious systole and diastole within, which will one day cease,
Not in many a hungry wish, told to the skies only,
Not in cries, laughter, defiances, thrown from me when alone, far in the wilds,
Not in husky pantings through clenched teeth,
Not in sounded and resounded words -- chattering words, echoes, dead words,
Not in the murmers of my dreams while I sleep,
Nor in the limbs and senses of my body, that take you and dismiss you continually -- Not there,
Not in any of all of them, O adhesiveness! O pulse of my life!
Need I that you exist and show yourself, any more than in these songs.
7.
Of the terrible question of appearances,
Of the doubts, the uncertainties after all,
That may-be reliance and hope are but speculations after all,
That may-be identity beyond the grave is a beautiful fable only,
May-be the things I perceive -- the animals, plants, men, hills, shining and flowing waters,
The skies of day and night -- colors, densities, forms -- May-be these are, (as doubtless they are,) only apparitions, and the real something has yet to be known,
(How often they dart out of themselves, as if to confound me and mock me!
How often I think neither I know, nor any man knows, aught of them;)
May-be they only seem to me what they are, (as doubtless they indeed but seem,) as from my present point of view -- And might prove, (as of course they would,) naught of what they appear, or naught any how, 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 hand,
When the subtle air, the impalpable, the sense that words and reason hold not, surround us and pervade us,
Then I am charged with untold and untellable wisdom -- I am silent -- I require nothing further,
I cannot answer the question of appearances, or that of identity beyond the grave,
But I walk or sit indifferent -- I am satisfied,
He ahold of my hand has completely satisfied me.
8.
Long I thought that knowledge alone would suffice me -- O if I could but obtain knowledge!
Then my lands engrossed me -- Lands of the prairies, Ohio's land, the southern savannas, engrossed me -- For them I would live -- I would be their orator;
Then I met the examples of the old and new heroes -- I heard of warriors, sailors, and all dauntless persons -- And it seemed to me that I too had it in me to be as dauntless as any -- and would be so;
And then, to enclose all, it came to me to strike up the songs of the New World -- And then I believed my life must be spent singing;
But now take notice, land of the prairies, land of the south savannas, Ohio's land,
Take notice, you Kanuck woods -- and you Lake Huron -- and all that with you roll toward Niagra -- and you Niagra also,
And you, California mountains -- That you each and all find somebody else to be your singer of songs,
For I can be your singer of songs no longer -- One who loves me is jealous of me, and withdraws me from all but love,
With the rest I dispense -- I sever from what I thought would suffice me, for it does not -- it is now empty and tasteless to me,
I heed knowledge, and the grandeur of The States, and the example of heroes, no more,
I am indifferent to my own songs -- I will go with him I love,
It is to be enough for us that we are together -- We never separate again.
9.
Hours continuing long, sore and heavy-hearted,
Hours of the duck, when I withdrew 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 roads, or through the city streets, or pacing miles and miles, stifiling plaintive cries;
Hours discouraged, distracted -- for the one I cannot content myself without, soon I saw him content himself without me;
Hours when I am forgotten, (O weeks and months are passing, but I believe I am never to forget!)
Sullen and suffering hours! (I am ashamed -- but it is useless -- I am what I am;)
Hours of my torment -- I wonder if other men ever have the like, out of the like feelings?
Is there even one other like me -- distracted -- his friend, his lover, lost to him?
Is he too as I am now? Does he still rise in the morning, dejected, thinking who is lost to him? and at night, awaking, think who is lost?
Does he too harbor his friendship silent and endless? harbor his anguish and passion?
Does some stray reminder, or the casual mention of a name, bring the fit back upon him, taciturn and deprest?
Does he see himself reflected in me? In these hours, does he see the face of his hours reflected?
10.
You bards of ages hence! when you refer to me, mind not so much my poems,
Nor speak of me that I prophesied of The States, and led them the way of their Glories;
But come, 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 his friend, his lover, was fondest,
Who was not proud of his songs, but of measureless ocean of love within him -- and freely poured it forth,
Who often walked lonesome walks, thinking of his dear friends, his lovers,
Who pensive, away from one he loved, often lay sleepless and dissatisfied at night,
Who knew too well the sick, sick dread lest the one he loved might secretly be indifferent to him,
Whose happiest days were far away, through fields, in woods, on hills, he and another, wandering hand in hand, they twain, apart from other men,
Who oft as he sauntered the streets, curved with his arm the shoulder of his friend -- while the arm of his friend rested upon him also.
11.
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 followed;
And else, when I caroused, or when my plans were accomplished, still I was not happy;
But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health, refreshed, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn,
When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in the morning light,
When I wandered alone over the beach, and, undressing, bathed, laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise,
And when I thought how my dear friend, my lover, was on his way coming, O then I was happy;
O then each breath tasted sweeter -- and 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 waters roll slowly continually up the shores,
I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands, as directed to me, whispering, to congratulate me,
For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the cool night,
In the stillness, in the autumn moonbeams, his face was inclined toward me,
And his arm lay lightly around my breast -- And that night I was happy.
12.
Are you the new person drawn toward me and asking something significant from me?
To begin with, take warning -- I am probably far different from what you suppose;
Do you suppose you will find in me your ideal?
Do you think it is easy to have me become your lover?
Do you think the friendship of me would be unalloyed satisfaction?
Do you suppose I am trusty and faithful?
Do you see no further than this façade -- this smooth and tolerant manner of me?
Do you suppose yourself advancing on real ground toward a real heroic man?
Have you no thought, O dreamer, that it may be all maya, illusion? O the next step my precipitate you!
O let some past deceived one hiss in your ears, how many have prest on the same as you are pressing now,
How many have fondly supposed what you are supposing now -- only to be disappointed.
13.
CALAMUS taste,
(For I must change the strain -- these are not to be pensive leaves, but leaves of joy,)
Roots and leaves unlike any but themselves,
Scents brought to men and women from the wild woods, and from the pond-side,
Breast-sorrel and pinks of love -- fingers that wind around tighter than vines,
Gushes from the throats of birds, hid I the foliage of trees, as the sun is risen,
Breezes of land and love -- Breezes set from living shores out to you on the living sea -- to you, O sailors!
Frost-mellowed berries, and Third-Month twigs, offered fresh to young persons wandering out in the fields when the winter breaks up,
Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever you are,
Buds to be unfolded on the old terms,
If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they will open, and bring form, color, perfume, to you,
If you become the aliment and the wet, they will become flowers, fruits, tall branches and trees,
They are comprised in you just as much as in themselves -- perhaps more than in themselves,
They are not comprised in one season or succession, but many successions,
They have come slowly up out of the earth and me, and are to come slowly up out of you.
14.
NOT heat flames up and consumes,
Not sea-waves hurry in and out,
Not the air, delicious and dry, the air of the ripe summer, bears lightly along white down-balls of myriads of seeds, wafted, sailing gracefully, to drop where they may,
Not these -- O none of these, more than the flames of me, consuming, burning for his love whom I love!
O none, more than I, hurrying in and out;
Does the tide hurry, seeking something, and neve give up? O I the same;
O nor down-balls, nor perfumes, nor the high rain-emitting clouds, are borne through the open air,
Any more than my Soul is borne through the open air,
Wafted in all directions, O love, for friendship, for you.
15.
O DROPS of me! trickle, slow drops,
Candid, from me falling -- drip, bleeding drops,
From wounds made free you whence you were prisoned,
From my face -- from my forehead and lips,
From my breast -- from within where I was concealed -- Press forth, red drops -- confession drops,
Stain every page -- stain every song I sing, every word I say, bloody drops,
Let them know you scarlet heat -- let them glisten,
Saturate them with yourself, all ashamed and wet,
Glow upon all I have written or shall write, bleeding drops,
Let it all be seen in your light, blushing drops.
16.
1.
WHO is now reading this?
2.
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,
Or may-be one who is puzzled at me.
3.
As if I were not puzzled at myself!
Or as if I never deride myself! (O conscience struck! O self-convicted!)
Or as if I do not secretly love strangers! (O tenderly, a long time, and never avow it;)
Or as if I did not see, perfectly well, interior in myself, the stuff of wrong-doing,
Or as if it could cease transpiring from me until it must cease.
17.
OF him I love day and night, I dreamed I heard he was dead,
And I dreamed I went where they had buried him I love -- but he was not in that place,
And I dreamed I wandered, searching among burial places, to find him,
And I found that every place was a burial-place,
The houses full of life were equally full of death, (this house is now,)
The streets, the shipping, the places of amusement, the Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia, the Mannahatta, were as full of the dead as of the living,
And fuller, O vastly fuller, of the dead than of the living;
-- And what I dreamed I will henceforth tell to every person and age,
And I stand henceforth bound to what I dreamed;
And now I am willing to disregard burial-places, and dispense with them,
And if the memorials of the dead were put up indifferently everywhere, even in the room where I eat or sleep, I should be satisfied,
And if the corpse of any one I love, of if my own corpse, be duly rendered to powder, and poured in the sea, I shall be satisfied,
Or if it be distributed to the winds, I shall be satisfied.
18.
City of my walks and joys!
City whom that I have lived and sung there will one day make you illustrious,
Not the pageants of you -- not your shifting tableaux, your spectacles, repay me,
Not the interminable rows of your houses -- nor the ships at the wharves,
Nor the processions in the streets, nor the bright windows, with goods in them,
Nor to converse with learned persons, or bear my share in the soiree or feast;
Not those -- but, as I pass, O Manhattan! Your frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love,
Offering me the response of my own -- these repay me,
Lovers, continual lovers, only repay me.
19.
1.
Mind you the the timid models of the rest, the majority?
Long I minded them, but hence I will not -- for I have adopted models for myself, and now offer them to The Lands.
2.
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, without charm;
Yet comes one, a Manhattanese, and ever at parting, kisses me lightly on the lips with robust love,
And I, in the public room, or on the crossing of the street, or on the ship's deck, kiss him in return;
We observe that salute of American comrades, land and sea,
We are those two natural and nonchalant persons.
20.
I SAW in Louisiana a live-oak growing,
All alone stood it, and the moss hung down from the branches,
Without any companion it grew there, uttering joyous leaves of dark green,
And its look, rude, lusty, made me think of myself.
But I wondered how it could utter joyous leaves, standing alone there, without its friend, its lover near -- for I knew I could not,
And I broke off a twig with a certain number of 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 if my own dear friends,
(For I believe lately I think of little else than of them,)
Yet it remains to me a curious token -- it makes me think of manly love;
For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there in Louisiana, solitary, in a wide flat space,
Uttering joyous leaves all its life, without a friend, a lover, near,
I know very well I could not.
21.
MUSIC always round me, unceasing, unbeginning -- yet long untaught I not hear,
But now the chorus I hear, and am elated,
A tenor, strong, ascending, with power and health, with glad notes of day-break I hear,
A soprano, at intervals, sailing buoyantly over the tops of immense waves,
A transparent base, shuddering lusciously under and through the universe,
The triumphant tutti -- the funeral wailings, with sweet flutes and violins -- All these I fill myself with
I hear not the volumes of sound merely -- I am moved by the exquisite meanings, I listen to the different voices winding in and out, striving, contending with fiery vehemence to excel each other in emotion,
I do not think the performers know themselves -- but now I think I begin to know them.
22.
PASSING stranger! You do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (It comes to me, as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
All is recalled as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, were a boy with me, 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, breast, hands, in return,
I am not to speak to you -- I am to think of you when I sit alone, or wake a night alone,
I am to wait -- I do not doubt I am to meet you again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.
23.
THIS moment as I sit alone, yearning and thoughtful, it seems to me there are other men in other lands, yearning and thoughtful;
It seems to me I can look over and behold them, in Germany, Italy, France, Spain -- Or far, far away, in China, or in Russia or India -- talking other dialects;
And it seems to me if I could know these 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 we should be brethren and lovers,
I know I should be happy with them.
24.
I hear it is charged against me that I seek to destroy institutions;
But really I am neither for nor against institutions,
(What indeed have I in common with them? -- Or what with the destruction of them?)
Only I will establish in the Manahatta, and in every city of These States, inland and seaboard,
And in the fields and woods, and above every keel little or large, that dents the water, Without edifices, or rules, or trustees, or any argument,
The institution of the dear love of comrades.
25.
THE prairie-grass dividing -- its own odor breathing,
I demand of it the spiritual corresponding,
Demand the most copious and close companionship of men,
Demand the blades to rise of words, acts, beings,
Those of the open atmosphere, coarse, sunlit, fresh, nutritious,
Those that go their won gait, erect, stepping with freedom and command -- leading, not following,
Those with a never-quell'd audacity -- those with sweet and lusty flesh, clear of taint, choice and chary of its love-power,
Those that look carelessly in the faces of the Presidents and Governors, as to say, Who are you?
Those of earth-born passion, simple, never constrained, never obedient,
Those of inland America.
26.
WE two boys together clinging,
One the other never leaving,
Up and down the roads going -- North and South excursions making,
Power enjoying -- elbows stretching -- fingers clutching,
Armed and fearless -- eating, drinking, sleeping, loving,
No law less than ourselves owning -- sailing, soldiering, thieving, threatening,
Misers, menials, priests, alarming -- air breathing, water drinking, on the turn of the sea-beach dancing,
With birds singing -- With fishes swimming -- With trees branching and leafing, Cities wrenching, ease scorning, statutes mocking, feebleness chasing,
Fulfilling our foray.
27.
O Love!
O dying -- always dying!
O the burials of me, past and present!
O me, while I stride ahead, material, visible, imperious as ever!
O me, what I was for years, now dead, (I lament not -- I am content;)
O to discourage myself from those corpses of me, which I turn and look at, where I cast them!
To pass on, (O living! Always living!) And leave the corpses behind!
28.
When I peruse the conquered fame of heroes, and the victories of mighty generals, I do not envy the generals,
Nor the President in his Presidency, nor the rich in his great house;
But when I read of the brotherhood of lovers, how it was with them,
How through life, through dangers, odium, unchanging, long and long,
Through youth, and through middle and old age, how unfaltering, how affectionate and faithful they were,
Then I am pensive -- I hastily put down the book, and walk away, filled with the bitterest envy.
29.
One flitting glimpse, caught through an interstice,
Or a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar room, around the stove, late of a winter night -- And I unremarked, seated in a corner;
Of a youth who loves me, and whom I love, silently approaching, and seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand;
A long while, amid the noises of coming and going -- of drinking and oath and smutty jest,
There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little, perhaps not a word.
30.
A PROMISE and gift to California,
Also to the great Pastoral Plains, and for Oregon:
Sojourning east a while longer, soon I travel to you, to remain, to teach robust American love;
For I know very well that I and robust love belong among you, inland, and along the Western Sea,
For These States tend inland, and toward the Western Sea -- and I will also.
31
1.
WHAT ship, puzzled at sea, cons for the true reckoning?
Or, coming in, to avoid the bars, and follow the channel, a perfect pilot needs?
Here, sailor! Here, ship! Take aboard the most perfect pilot,
Whom, in a little boat, putting off, and rowing, I, hailing you, offer.
2.
What place is besieged, and vainly tries to raise the siege?
Lo! I send to that place a commander, swift, brave, immortal,
And with him horse and foot -- and parks of artillery,
And artillerymen, the deadliest that ever fired gun.
32.
WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?
The battle-ship, perfect-model'd, majestic, that I saw pass the offing to-day under full sail?
The splendors of the past day? Or the splendor of the night that envelops me?
Or the vaunted glory and growth of the great city spread around me? -- No;
But I record of two simple men I saw to-day, on the pier, in the midst of the crowd, parting the parting of dear friends,
The one to remain hung on the other's neck, and passionately kissed him,
While the one to depart, tightly prest the one to remain in his arms.
33.
No labor-saving machine,
Nor discovery have I made,
Nor will I be able to leave behind me any wealthy bequest to found a hospital or library,
Nor reminiscence of any deed of courage, for America,
Nor literary success, nor intellect -- nor book for the book-shelf;
Only these carols, vibrating through the air, I leave,
For comrades and lovers.
34.
I DREAMED in a dream, I saw a city of invincible to the attacks of the whole of the rest of the earth,
I dreamed that was the new City of Friends,
Nothing was greater there than the quality of robust love -- it led the rest,
It was seen every hour in actions of the men of that city,
And in all their looks and words.
35.
To you of New England,
To the man of the Seaside State, and of Pennsylvania,
To the Kanadian of the north -- to the Southerner I love,
These, with perfect trust, to depict you as myself -- the germs are in all men;
I believe the main purport of These States is found a supurb friendship, exalté previously unknown,
Because I perceive it waits, and has been always waiting, latent in all men.
36.
EARTH! My likeness!
Though you look so impassive, ample and spheric there,
I now suspect that is not all;
I now suspect there is something fierce in you, eligible to burst forth;
For an athlete is enamoured of me -- and I of him,
But toward him there is something fierce and terrible in me, eligible to burst forth,
I dare not tell it in words -- not even in these songs.
37.
A LEAF for hand in hand!
You natural persons old and young! You on the Eastern Sea, and you on the Western!
You on the Mississippi, and on the branches and bayous of the Mississippi!
You friendly boatmen and mechanics! You roughs!
You twain! And all the processions moving along the streets!
I wish to infuse myself among you till I see it common for you to walk hand in hand.
38.
PRIMEVAL my love for the women I love,
O bride! O wife! More resistless, more enduring than I can tell, the thought of you!
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.
39.
SOMETIMES with one I love, I fill myself with rage, for fear I effuse unreturned love;
But now I think there is no unreturned love -- the pay is certain, one way or another,
Doubtless I could not have perceived the universe, or written one of my poems, if I had not freely given myself to comrades, to love.
40.
THAT shadow, my likeness, that goes to and fro, seeking a livelihood, chattering, chaffering,
How often I find myself standing and looking at it where it fits,
How often I question and doubt whether that is rally me;
But in these, and among my lovers, and carolling my songs,
O I never doubt whether that is really me.
41.
1.
AMONG the men and women, the multitude, I percieve one, picking me out by secret and divine signs,
Acknowledging none else -- not parent, wife, husband, brother, child, any nearer than I am;
Some are baffled -- But that one is not -- that one knows me.
2.
Lover and perfect equal!
I meant that you should discover me so, by my faint indirections,
And I, when I meet you, mean to discover you by the like in you.
42.
To the young man, many things to absorb, to engraft, to develop, I teach, to help him become élève of mine,
But if blood like mine circle not in his veins,
If he be not silently selected by lovers, and do not silently select lovers,
Of what use is it that he seek to become élè:ve of mine?
43.
O YOU whom I often and silently come where you are, that I may be with you,
As I walk by your side, or sit near, or remain in the same room with you,
Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me.
44.
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 other poems.
45.
1.
FULL of life, sweet-blooded, compact, visible,
I forty years old the Eighty-third Year of The States,
To one a century hence, or any number of centuries hence,
To you, yet unborn, these, seeking you.
2.
When you read these, I, that I was visible, am become invisible;
Now it is you, compact, viable, realizing my poems, seeking me,
Fancying how happy you were, if I could be with you, and become your lover;
Be it as if I were with you. Be not too certain but I am now with you.
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