Leaves of Grass First and Death-Bed Editions (89 page)

Primeval my love for the woman 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.

Let us twain walk aside from the rest;
Now we are together privately, do you discard ceremony,
Come! vouchsafe to me what has yet been vouchsafed to none—
Tell me the whole story,
Tell me what you would not tell your brother, wife, husband, or
physician.

Now lift me close to your face till I whisper,
What you are holding is in reality no book, nor part of a
book;
It is man, flush’d and full-blooded-it is I—
So long!
—We must separate awhile—Here! Take from my lips this
kiss;
Whoever you are, I give it especially to you;
So
long!
—And I hope we shall meet again.

Now, dearest comrade, lift me to your face,
We must separate awhile—Here! take from my lips this kiss.
Whoever you are, I give it especially to you;
So
long!
—And I hope we shall meet again.

*

He is wisest who has the most caution,
He only wins who goes far enough.

*

Any thing is as good as established, when that is established that will produce it and continue it.

*

What General has a good army in himself, has a good army;
He happy in himself, or she happy in herself, is happy,
But I tell you you cannot be happy by others, any more than you
can beget or conceive a child by others.

*

Have you learned lessons only of those who admired you, and
were tender with you, and stood aside for you?
Have you not learned the great lessons of those who rejected you,
and braced themselves against you? or who treated you with
contempt, or disputed the passage with you?
Have you had no practice to receive opponents when they come?

*

Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night,
The sad voice of Death—the call of my nearest lover, putting
forth, alarmed, uncertain,
This sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me,
Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my destination.

*

I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you,
I approach, hear, behold—the sad mouth, the look out of the
eyes, your mute inquiry,
Whither I go from the bed I now recline on, come tell me;
Old age, alarmed, uncertain—A young woman’s voice appealing
to me, for comfort,
A young man’s voice,
Shall I not escape?

*

A thousand perfect men and women appear,
Around each gathers a cluster of friends, and gay children and
youths, with offerings.

*

A mask—a perpetual natural disguiser of herself,
Concealing her face, concealing her form,
Changes and transformations every hour, every moment,
Falling upon her even when she sleeps.

*

One sweeps by, attended by an immense train,
All emblematic of peace—not a soldier or menial among
them.

One sweeps by, old, with black eyes, and profuse white hair,
He has the simple magnificence of health and strength,
His face strikes as with flashes of lightning whoever it turns
toward.

*

Three old men slowly pass, followed by three others, and they by
three others,
They are beautiful—the one in the middle of each group holds
his companions by the hand,
As they walk, they give out perfume wherever they walk.

*

Women sit, or move to and fro—some old, some young,
The young are beautiful—but the old are more beautiful than the
young.

*

What weeping face is that looking from the window?
Why does it stream those sorrowful tears?
Is it for some burial place, vast and dry?
Is it to wet the soil of graves?

*

I will take an egg out of the robin’s nest in the orchard,
I will take a branch of gooseberries from the old bush in the
garden, and go and preach to the world;
You shall see I will not meet a single heretic or scorner,
You shall see how I stump clergymen, and confound
them,
You shall see me showing a scarlet tomato, and a white pebble
from the beach.

*

Behavior—fresh, native, copious, each one for himself or
herself,
Nature and the Soul expressed—America and freedom
expressed—In it the finest art,
In it pride, cleanliness, sympathy, to have their chance,
In it physique, intellect, faith—in it just as much as to
manage an army or a city, or to write a book—perhaps
more,
The youth, the laboring person, the poor person, rivalling all the
rest—perhaps outdoing the rest,
The effects of the universe no greater than its;
For there is nothing in the whole universe that can be
more effective than a man’s or woman’s daily behavior
can be,
In any position, in any one of These States.

*

Not the pilot has charged himself to bring his ship
into port, though beaten back, and many times
baffled,
Not the path-finder, penetrating inland, weary and long,
By deserts parched, snows chilled, rivers wet, perseveres till he
reaches his destination,
More than I have charged myself, heeded or unheeded, to
compose a free march for These States,
To be exhilarating music to them, years, centuries hence.

*

I thought I was not alone, walking here by the shore,
But the one I thought was with me, as now I walk by the
shore,
As I lean and look through the glimmering light—that one has
utterly disappeared,
And those appear that perplex me.

What General has a good army in himself, has a good army: He happy in himself, or she happy in herself, is happy.

Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night,
The sad voice of Death—the call of my nearest lover, putting
forth, alarmed, uncertain,
This sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me,
Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my destination.

I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you,
I approach, hear, behold—the sad mouth, the look out of the
eyes, your mute inquiry,
Whither I go from the bed I now recline on, come tell me;
Old age, alarmed, uncertain—A young woman’s voice appealing
to me, for comfort,
A young man’s voice,
Shall I not escape?

States!
Were you looking to be held together by the lawyers?
By an agreement on a paper? Or by arms?

 

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.

 

The old breath of life, ever new,
Here! I pass it by contact to you, America.

 

O mother! have you done much for me?
Behold, there shall from me be much done for you.

 

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.

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

To Michigan shall be wafted perfume from Florida,
To the Mannahatta from Cuba or Mexico,
Not the perfume of flowers, but sweeter, and wafted beyond
death.

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.

 

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.

 

 

There shall be innovations,
There shall be countless linked hands—namely, the
Northeasterner‘s, and the Northwesterner’s, and the
Southwesterner‘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.

 

 

The most dauntless and rude shall touch face to face lightly,
The dependence of Liberty shall be lovers,
The continuance of Equality shall be comrades.

 

These shall tie and band stronger than hoops of iron,
I, extatic, O partners! O lands! henceforth with the love of lovers
tie you.

Of waters, forests, hills,
Of the earth at large, whispering through medium of me;
Of vista—Suppose some sight in arriere, through the formative
chaos, presuming the growth, fulness, life, now attained on
the journey;
(But I see the road continued, and the journey ever continued;)
Of what was once lacking on the earth, and in due time has
become supplied—And of what will yet be supplied,
Because all I see and know, I believe to have purport in what will
yet be supplied.

Of ownership—As if one fit to own things could not at pleasure
enter upon all, and incorporate them into himself or
herself;
Of Equality—As if it harmed me, giving others the same chances
and rights as myself—As if it were not indispensable to my
own rights that others possess the same;
Of Justice—As if Justice could be any thing but the same ample
law, expounded by natural judges and saviours,
As if it might be this thing or that thing, according to decisions.

Bathed in war’s perfume—delicate flag!
(Should the days needing armies, needing fleets, come
again,)
O to hear you call the sailors and the soldiers! flag like a beautiful
woman!
O to hear the tramp, tramp, of a million answering men! O the
ships they arm with joy!
O to see you leap and beckon from the tall masts of ships!
O to see you peering down on the sailors on the decks!
Flag like the eyes of women.

Solid, ironical, rolling orb!
Master of all, and matter of fact!—at last I accept your
terms;
Bringing to practical, vulgar tests, of all my ideal dreams,
And of me, as lover and hero.

Not my enemies ever invade me—no harm to my pride from
them I fear;
But the lovers I recklessly love—lo! how they master me!
Lo! me, ever open and helpless, bereft of my strength!
Utterly abject, grovelling on the ground before them.

This day, O Soul, I give you a wondrous mirror;
Long in the dark, in tarnish and cloud it lay—But the cloud has
pass‘d, and the tarnish gone;
... Behold, O Soul! it is now a clean and bright mirror,
Faithfully showing you all the things of the world.

There are who teach only the sweet lessons of peace and
safety;
But I teach lessons of war and death to those I love,
That they readily meet invasions, when they come.

Again a verse for sake of you,
You soldiers in the ranks—you Volunteers,
Who bravely fighting, silent fell,
To fill unmention’d graves.

When, staunchly entering port,
After long ventures, hauling up, worn and old,
Batter’d by sea and wind, torn by many a fight,
With the original sails all gone, replaced, or mended,
I only saw, at last, the beauty of the Ship.

(Nov. 22, 1875, midnight—Saturn and Mars in conjunction.)

 

After an interval, reading, here in the midnight,
With the great stars looking on—all the stars of Orion looking,
And the silent Pleiades—and the duo looking of Saturn and
ruddy Mars;
Pondering, reading my own songs, after a long interval, (sorrow
and death familiar now,)
Ere closing the book, what pride! what joy! to find them,
Standing so well the test of death and night!
And the duo of Saturn and Mars!

Two Rivulets side by side,
Two blended, parallel, strolling tides,
Companions, travelers, gossiping as they journey.

 

For the Eternal Ocean bound,
These ripples, passing surges, streams of Death and Life,
Object and Subject hurrying, whirling by,
The Real and Ideal,

 

Alternate ebb and flow the Days and Nights,
(Strands of a Trio twining, Present, Future, Past.)

In You, whoe‘er you are, my book perusing,
In I myself—in all the World—these ripples flow,
All, all, toward the mystic Ocean tending.

 

(O yearnful waves! the kisses of your lips!
Your breast so broad, with open arms, O firm, expanded shore!)

Or, from that Sea of Time,
Spray, blown by the wind—a double winrow-drift of weeds and
shells;
(O little shells, so curious-convolute! so limpid-cold and voiceless!
Yet will you not, to the tympans of temples held,
Murmurs and echoes still bring up—Eternity’s music, faint and far,
Wafted inland, sent from Atlantica’s rim—strains for the Soul of
the Prairies,
Whisper’d reverberations—chords for the ear of the West, joyously
sounding
Your tidings old, yet ever new and untranslatable;)
Infinitessimals out of my life, and many a life,
(For not my life and years alone I give—all, all I give;)
These thoughts and Songs—waifs from the deep—here, cast high
and dry,
Wash’d on America’s shores.