Section 4

WALT WHITMAN.
First published in 1855.
I I CELEBRATE myself ; And what I assume you shall assume ; For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my Soul ; I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of summer grass.
Houses and rooms are full of perfumes—the shelves are crowded with perfumes ;
I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it ;
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.
The atmosphere is not a perfume—it has no taste of the dis- tillation—it is odorless ;
It is for my mouth forever—I am in love with it ; 10 I will go to the bank by the wood, and become undisguised and naked ;
IT am mad for it to be in contact with me.
32 LEAVES OF GRASS
; 2
The smoke of my own breath ;
Echoes, ripples,’ buzz’d whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine ;
My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, tne passing of blood and air through my lungs ;
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore, and dark-color’d sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn ;
The sound of the belch’d words of my voice, words loos’d to the eddies of the wind ;
A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms ;
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag ;
The delight alone, or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides ; 20
The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.
Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth much ?
Have you practis’d so long to learn to read ?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?
Stop this day and night with me, and you shall possess the origin of all poems ;
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun—(there are millions of suns left ;)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books ;
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me:
You shall listen to all sides, and filter them from yourself.
3 I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the be- ginning and the end ; 30 But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.
There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now ;
And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.
1 1855, ‘ripples and buzzed.”’
WALT WHITMAN 33
Urge, and urge, and urge; Always the procreant urge of the world.
Out of the dimness opposite — advance—always substance and increase, always sex ; Always a knit of identity—always distinction—always 4 “breed of life. } id To elaborate is no avail—learn’d and unlearn’d feel that it is SO. 40
Sure as the most certain sure, plumb’ in the uprights; well en- tretied, braced in the beams,
Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, eistieat
I and this mystery, here we stand.
Clear and sweet is my Soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my Soul.
Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, Till that becomes unseen, and receives proof in its turn.
Showing the best, and dividing it from the worst, age vexes age ;
Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire my- self.
Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean ;
Not an inch, nor a particle of an inch, is vile, and none shall be less eae than the rest. 50
I am satisfied—I see, dance, laugh, sing:
As the hugging and loving Bed-fellow’ sleeps at my side through the night, and withdraws at the peep of the day,* with stealthy tread,
Leaving me baskets cover’d with white towels, swelling the house
with their plenty,
1 «always sex’ added in 1856. 2 1855 reads ‘‘ As God comes a loving bed-fellow and sleeps at my side all night and close on the peep of the day, And leaves for me baskets covered with white towels bulging the house with their plenty. 8 ¢¢ with stealthy tread ’’ added in 1867. 3
34 LEAVES OF GRASS
Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization, and scream at my eyes, That they turn from gazing after and down the road, And forthwith cipher and show’ me a cent, Exactly the contents of one, and exactly the contents of two, and which is ahead ? 4
Trippers and askers surround me ;
People I meet—the effect upon me of my early life, or’ the ward and city I live in, or the nation,
The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors old and new, 60
My dinner, dress, associates, looks,* compliments, dues,
The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love,
The sickness of one of my folks, or of myself, or ill-doing, or loss or lack of money, or depressions or exaltations ;
Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful news, the fitful events ;*
These come to me days and nights, and go from me again,®
But they are not the Me myself.
Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am ;
Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary ;
Looks down, is erect, or® bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest,
Looking with side-curved head, curious what will come next ;7 70
Both in and out of the game, and watching and wondering at it.
Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders ; I have no mockings or arguments—I witness and wait.
5
I believe in you, my Soul—the other I am must not abase itself to you ; And you must not be abased to the other.
1855 56 read ‘to a cent.’’
1855 756 read ‘‘ of the ward” and ‘‘ of the nation.’?
1855, ‘‘looks, business,’’ etc. 1856, ‘‘looks, work,’? etc, Line 64 added in 1867.
185556.
**or’’? added in 1860.
1855 ’56 read ‘‘ Looks with its side-curved head,’ etc.
aA Aanr on
WALT WHITMAN 35
Loafe with me on the grass—loose the stop from your throat ;
Not words, not music or rhyme I want—not custom or lecture, not even the best ;
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
I mind how once! we lay, such a transparent summer morning ;
How’ you settled your head athwart my hips, and gently turn’d over upon me, 80
And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart,
And reach’d till you felt my beard, and reach’d till you held my feet.
Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth ;
And I know that the hand of God i is the promise® of my own,
And I know that the spirit of God is the* brother.of my own ;
“And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and ‘the
————-wonlfen my sisters and lovers ; i+ uae And i eRe creation is love ;
And limitless are leaves, stiff or drooping in the fields ;
And brown ants in the little wells beneath them ; And mossy scabs of the worm fence, and heap’d stones, elder,
mullen and poke-weed. go 6 A child said, What ts the grass? fetching it to me with full hands ;
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is, any more than he.
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer, designedly dropt,°
Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say, Whose ?
1 « once’? added in 1860.
2 «¢ How” added in 1860,
3 1855 reads ‘‘elderhand of my own.’? 4 1855 reads ‘ eldest brother.”’
5 1855 56 ’60 read ‘‘dropped.”’
36 LEAVES OF GRASS
Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.
Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic ;
_And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,
Growing among black folks as among white ; 100
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.
And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
Tenderly will I use you, curling grass ;
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men ;
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them ;
It may be you are from old people, and from women, and from offspring taken soon out of their mothers’ laps ;
And here you are the mothers’ laps.
This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers ;
Darker than the colorless beards of old men ;
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths. im Ke)
O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues ! And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.
I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.
What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children ?
(" They are alive and well somewhere ;
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death ;
And if ever there was, it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,
And ceas’d the moment life appear’ d. | 120
All goes onward and outward—nothing collapses ; And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
WALT WHITMAN 37
,
Has any one supposed it lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him or her, it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.
I pass death with the dying, and birth with the new-wash’d babe, and am not contain’d between my hat and boots ;
And peruse manifold objects, no two alike, and every one good ;
‘The earth good, and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good.
I am not an earth, nor an adjunct of an earth;
Iam the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as myself ;
(They do not know how immortal, but I know.) 130
Every kind for itself and its own—for me mine, male and female ;
For me those’ that have been boys, and that love women ;
For me the man that is proud, and feels how it stings to be slighted ;
For me the sweet-heart and the old maid—for me mothers, and the mothers of mothers ;
For me lips that have smiled, eyes that have shed tears ;
For me children, and the begetters of children.
*Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale, nor discarded ;
I see through the broadcloth and gingham, whether or no ;
And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be shaken away.
8
The little one sleeps in its cradle ; 140 I lift the gauze, and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand.
The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill ; I peeringly view them from the top.
11855. For ‘‘those’’ reads ‘ 2 1855 756 and ’60, before line 137, read ‘* Who need be afraid of the
merge ?””
38 LEAVES OF GRASS
The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bed-room ; 1T witness the corpse with its dabbled hair—I note where the pistol has fallen.
The blab of the pave, the tires of carts,” sluff of boot-soles, talk. of the promenaders ;
The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the clank of the shod horses on the granite floor ;
The snow-sleighs,® the clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snow- balls ;
The hurrahs for popular favorites, the fury of rous’d mobs ;
The flap of the curtain’d litter, a sick man inside, borne to the hospital ; 150
The meeting of enemies, the sudden oath, the blows and fall ;
The excited crowd, the policeman with his star, quickly working his passage to the centre of the crowd ;
The impassive stones that receive and return so many echoes ;*
What groans of over-fed or half-starv’d who fall’ sun-struck, or in fits ;
What exclamations of women taken suddenly, who hurry home and give birth to babes ;
What living and buried speech is always vibrating here—what howls restrain’d by decorum ;
Arrests of criminals, slights, adulterous offers made, acceptances, rejections with convex lips ;
I mind them or the show or resonance of them—I come, and I depart.®
9
The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready ;
The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon ; 160
The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged ;
The armfuls are pack’d to the sagging mow.
1 Line 145 in 1855 ’56 ’60 reads “* It is so—I witnessed the corpse—there the pistol had fallen.’’
21855 reads ‘‘and sluff.’’
31855. pelts of snow-balls.’’
41855. After line 153 reads ‘‘ The souls moving along, are they invisible while the least atom of the stones is visible?’’ 1856 and 1860, ‘‘ while the least of the stones is visible.’’
5 1855 reads ‘‘ who fall on the flags,”’ etc.
6 1855 reads ‘‘I mind them or the resonance of them—I come again and again.’’ 1856 reads ‘‘I mind them or the resonance of them—I come and I depart.’’
WALT WHITMAN 39
I am there—I help—I came stretch’d atop of the load;
I felt its soft jolts—one leg reclined on the other ;
I jump from the cross-beams, and seize the clover and timothy, And roll head over heels, and tangle my hair full of wisps.
Io
Alone, far in the wilds and mountains, I hunt, Wandering, amazed at my own lightness and glee ; In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night,
Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill’d game ; 170 Falling asleep’ on the gather’d leaves, with my dog and gun by my side.
The Yankee clipper is under her? sky-sails—she cuts the sparkle and scud ;
My eyes settle the land—I bend at her prow, or shout joyously from the deck.
The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt* for me ;
I tuck’d my trowser-ends in my boots, and went and had a good time :
(You should have been with us that day round the chowder- kettle. )
I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in the far west —the bride was a red girl ;
Her father and his friends sat near,* cross-legged and dumbly smoking—they had moccasins to their feet, and large thick blankets hanging from their shoulders ;
On a bank lounged the trapper—he was drest mostly in skins— his luxuriant beard and curls protected his neck®*—he held his bride by the hand ;
She had long eyelashes—her head was bare—her coarse straight locks descended upon her voluptuous limbs and reach’d
to her feet.
11855 ’56 ’60 read ‘‘ Soundly falling asleep,”’ etc.
2 1855 56 ’60 67 read ‘‘her three sky-sails.”’
3 1855 756 ’60 read ‘‘ stopped.”’
41855 reads ‘‘near by.”’ ; : 5 1855 ’56 60 after “‘neck’’ begins new line: ‘‘One hand rested on his
rifle—the other hand held firmly the wrist of the red girl.”’
40 LEAVES OF GRASS
The runaway slave came to my house and stopt' outside ;
I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile ;
Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and weak,
And went where he sat on a log, and led him in and assured him, é
And brought water, and fill’d a tub for his sweated body and bruis’d feet,
And gave him a room that enter’d from my own, and gave him some coarse clean clothes,
And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and his awk-
wardness, :
And remember putting plasters on the galls of his neck and ankles ;
He staid with me a week before he was recuperated and pass’d north ;
(I had him sit next me at table—my fire-lock lean’d in the cor- ner. ) 190
NE
Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore ; Twenty-eight young men, and all so friendly : Twenty-eight years of womanly life, and all so lonesome.
She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank ; She hides, handsome and richly drest, aft the blinds of the window.
Which of the young men does she like the best ? Ah, the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.
Where are you off to, lady ? for I see you ; You splash in the water there, yet stay stock still in your room.
Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather ; 200 The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them.
The beards of the young men glisten’d with wet, it ran from their long hair : Little streams pass’d all over their bodies.