Section 13

O HYMEN! O HYMENEE! First published in 1860. O uyMEN! O hymenee! Why do you tantalize me thus? O why sting me for a swift moment only ? Why can you not continue? O why do you now cease ? Is it because, if you continued beyond the swift moment, you would soon certainly kill me?
&*
AS ADAM, EARLY IN THE MORNING. First published in 1860.
As Adam,’ early in the morning,
Walking forth from the bower, refresh’d with sleep ;
Behold me where I pass—hear my voice—approach,
Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my Body as I pass ; Be not afraid of my Body. —
1 Line 8. Added in 1867.
2 1860 reads ‘‘ Now I face the old home again—looking over to it joyous, as after long travel, growth, and sleep,”’
8 «« As Adam’? added in 1867.
116 LEAVES OF GRASS
I HEARD YOU, SOLEMN-SWEET PIPES OF THE ORGAN. First published in ‘‘ When Lilass,” etc., 1855-56.
I HEARD you, solemn-sweet pipes of the organ, as last Sunday morn I pass’d the church ;
Winds of autumn !—as I walk’d the woods at dusk, I heard your long-stretch’d sighs, up above, so mournful ;
I heard the perfect Italian tenor, singing at the opera—I heard the soprano in the midst of the quartet singing ;
... Heart of my love!—you too I heard, murmuring low, through one of the wrists around my. head ;
Heard the pulse of you, when all was still, ringing little bells last night under my ear.
&
I AM HE THAT ACHES WITH LOVE. First published in 1860.
I am he that aches with amorous! love ;
Does the earth gravitate? Does not all matter, aching, attract all matter P
So the Body of me, to all I meet, or know.’
&
TO HIM THAT WAS CRUCIFIED. First published in 1860.
My spirit to yours, dear brother ;
Do not mind because many, sounding your name, do not under- stand you ;
I do not sound your name, but I understand you, (there are others also ;) '
I specify you with joy, O my comrade, to salute you, and to salute those who are with you, before and since—and those to come also,
That we all labor together, transmitting the same charge and suc- cession ;
We few, equals, indifferent of lands, indifferent of times ;
We, enclosers of all continents, all castes—allowers of all the- ologies,
Compassionaters, perceivers, rapport of men,
1 “¢amorous’’ added in 1867. 2 1860 reads ‘‘ or that I know.’’
CALAMUS 117
We walk silent among disputes and assertions, but reject not the disputers, nor any thing that is asserted ;
We hear the bawling and din—we are reach’d at by divisions, jealousies, recriminations on every side, ie)
They close peremptorily upon us, to surround us, my comrade,
Yet we walk unheld, free, the whole earth over, journeying up and down, till we make our ineffaceable mark upon time and the diverse eras,
Till we saturate time and eras, that the men and women of races,
_ ages to come, may prove brethren and lovers, as we are.
x
PERFECTIONS. First published in 1860. On Ly themselves understand themselves, and the like of them-
selves, As Souls only understand Souls.
CALAMUS.
IN PATHS UNTRODDEN. First published in 1860.
In paths untrodden,
In the growth by margins of pond-waters,
Escaped from the life that exhibits itself,
From all the standards hitherto publish’d—from the pleasures, profits, eruditions,’ conformities,
Which too long I was offering to feed my soul ;
Clear to me, now, standards not yet publish’d—clear to me that my Soul,
That the Soul of the man I speak for, feeds, rejoices most in comrades ;?
Here, by mvself, away from the clank of the world,
Tallying and talk’d to here by tongues aromatic,
1 «¢ eruditions’’ added in 1870, 2 1860 reads “only in comrades.’’ 1867 reads ‘‘in comrades,”’
118 LEAVES OF GRASS
No longer abash’d—for in this secluded spot I can respond as I would not dare elsewhere, Io
Strong upon me the life that does not exhibit itself, yet contains all the rest,
Resolv’d to sing no songs to-day but those of manly attach- ment,
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.
od
SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST. First published in 1860.
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,
inhale r fai ==—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 accom-
plish’d ;
O I do not know what you mean, there underneath yourselves— you are not happiness,
You are often more bitter than I can bear—you burn and sting me, 10
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 finally! beautiful, except Death and Love?)
—O [think it is not for life 1am chanting here my chant of lovers—I think it must be for Death,
1
CALAMUS Tig
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 precisely the same aS you mean ;
Grow up taller, sweet leaves, that I may see! grow up out of my breast !
Spring away from the conceal’d heart there !
Do not fold yourself so in your pink-tinged roots, timid leaves ! 20
Do not remain down there so ashamed, herbage of my breast !
Come, I am determin’d to unbare this broad breast of mine—I have long enough stifled and choked :
—Emblematic and capricious blade, 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, 30
Give me yourself—for I see that you belong tome now above
all, and are folded inseparably’ together—you Love and Death are ;
Nor will I allow you to balk me any more with what I was call- ing life,
For now it is convey’d 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,
1 «inseparably ’’ added in 1867,
120 LEAVES OF GRASS
That may-be you are what it is all for—but it does not last so very long ; But you will last very long. 4o
WHOEVER YOU ARE, HOLDING ME NOW IN HAND.
First published in 1860.
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.
Who is he that would become my follower ? Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections ??
The way is suspicious—the result” uncertain, perhaps 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 abandon’d ; Io
Therefore release me now, before troubling yourself any further —Let go your hand from my shoulders,
Put me down, and depart on your way.
Or else,* by stealth, in some wood, for trial,
Or back of a rock, in the open air,
(For in any roof’d room of a house I emerge not—nor in com-
any,
And in 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, 20
For I am the new husband, and I am the comrade.
Or, if you will, thrusting me beneath your clothing,
1 1860 reads ‘* Are you he ?”’ 2 1860 reads ‘the result slow, uncertain.” 5 1860 reads ‘Or else only by stealth.’’
CALAMUS 12m
Where I may feel the throbs of your heart, or rest upon your hip,
Carry me when you go forth over land or sea ;
For thus, merely touching you, is enough—is best,
And thus, touching you, would 1 silently sleep and be carried eternally.
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 ! 30
Already you see I have escaped from you.
For it is not for what § 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.
&
THESE |, SINGING IN SPRING. First published in 1860.
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, pick’d from the fields, have accumulated,
122 LEAVES OF GRASS
(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 go,
Solitary, smelling the earthy smell, stopping now and then in the silence,
Alone I had thought—yet soon a! troop gathers around me, 10
Some walk by my side, and some behind, and some embrace my arms or neck,
They, the spirits of dear? 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*—tossing toward whoever is near me ;
Here! lilac, with a branch of pine,
Here, out of my pocket, some moss which I pull’d 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, 20
Interchange it, youths, with each other! Let none render it back !)
And twigs of maple, and a bunch of wild orange, and chest- nut,
And stems of currants, and plum-blows, and the aromatic cedar :
These, I, compass’d around by a thick cloud of spirits, Wandering, point to, or touch as I pass, or throw them loosely
. trom-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 re- serve,
I will give of it—but only to them that love, as I myself am capable of loving.
1 1860 ’67 read ‘yet soon a silent troop.”’ 2 « dear’’ added in 1870, 8 1860 reads ‘something for these till I hit upon a name—tossing,”’ ete,
CALAMUS 123
A SONG.
First published in 1860. See note.
I
ComE,’ 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, *With the love of comrades, With the life-long love of comrades.
2
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 ;
By the love of comrades, By the manly love of comrades.
3
For you these, from me, O Democracy, to serve you, ma femme ! 10 For you! for you, I am trilling these songs, In the love of comrades, In the high-towering love of comrades.
& NOT HEAVING FROM MY RIBB’D BREAST ONLY.
First published in 1860.
Not heaving from my ribb’d breast only ;
Not in sighs at night, in rage, dissatisfied with myself ; Not in those long-drawn, ill-supprest sighs ;
Not in many an oath and promise broken ;
Not in my wilful and savage soul’s volition ;
Not in the subtle nourishment of the air ;
1_
2 Lines 4, 5, 8, 9, 12, 13, added in 1867, With these exceptions this poem is composed of verses 13, 14 and 15 of the 5th poem in “ Calamus’’ Edition of 1860, beginning ‘
Were you looking to be held together by lawyers?” See page 469.
124 : _ LEAVES OF GRASS
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 ; IO
Not in husky pantings through clench’d teeth ;
Not in sounded and resounded words—chattering words, echoes, dead words ;
Not in the murmurs of my dreams while I sleep,
Nor the other murmurs of these incredible dreams of every day ;
Nor in the limbs and senses of my body, that take you and dis- miss you continually—Not there ;
Not in any or all of them, O adhesiveness! O pulse of my life!
Need I that you exist and show yourself, any more than in these songs.
&*
OF THE TERRIBLE DOUBT OF APPEARANCES. First published in 1860.
OF the terrible doubt of appearances,
Of the uncertainty after all—that we may be deluded,'
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 seeming 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 ;
1 ‘that we may be deluded’’ added in 1867. ? 1860 reads ‘‘ May-be they only seem to me what they are.’’
CALAMUS i25
—To me, these, and the like of these, are curiously answer’d by my lovers, my dear friends ; sie)
When he whom I love travels with me, or sits a long while hold- ing 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.
&*
THE BASE OF ALL METAPHYSICS.
First published in 1870.
AND now, gentlemen, A word I give to remain in your memories and minds, As base, and finale too, for all metaphysics.
(So, to the students, the old professor, At the close of his crowded course. )
Having studied the new and antique, the Greek and Germanic systems,
Kant having studied and stated—Fichte and Schelling and Hegel,
Stated the lore of Plato—and Socrates, greater than Plato,
And greater than Socrates sought and stated—Christ divine having studied long,