Section 42

As I walk’d with that eternal Self of me, seeking types.
2
As I wend to the shores I know not, 20 As I list to the dirge, the voices of men and women wreck’d, As I inhale the impalpable breezes that set in upon me,
As the ocean so mysterious rolls toward me closer and closer,° I, too, but signify, at the utmost, a little wash’d-up drift,
A few sands and dead leaves to gather,
Gather, and merge myself as part of the sands and drift.
O baffled, balk’d, bent to the very earth,‘ Oppress’d with myself that I have dared to open my mouth,
1 1860 ’67 read ‘‘sea-ripples.”’
® 1860 reads “* Alone, held by the eternal Self of me, that threatens to get the better of me, and stifle me.”’
* After line 23, 1860 reads ‘‘ At once I find the least thing that belongs to me, or that I see or touch, I know not.’’
* 1860 adds ‘‘ here preceding what follows.”
SEA-SHORE MEMORIES 409
Aware now, that, amid all that blab whose echoes recoil upon me, I have not once had the least idea who or what I am,
But that before all my insolent poems the real Mr stands yet untouch’d, untold, altogether unreach’d, 30
Withdrawn far, mocking me with mock-congratulatory signs and bows,
With peals of distant ironical laughter at every word I have written,
Pointing in silence to these songs, and then to the sand beneath.?
Now I perceive I have not understood anything—not a single object—and that no man ever can.
I perceive Nature, here in sight of the sea, is taking advantage of me, to dart upon me, and sting me,*® Because I have dared to open my mouth, to sing at all.
3
You oceans both! I close with you ;*
We murmur alike reproachfully, rolling our sands and drift, knowing not why,°®
These little shreds indeed, standing for you and me and all.®
You friable shore, with trails of debris ! 40 You fish-shaped island! I take what is underfoot ; What is yours is mine, my father.
I too Paumanok,
I too have bubbled up, floated the measureless float, and bee wash’d on your shores ;
I too am but a trail of drift and debris,
I too leave little wrecks upon you, you fish-shaped island.
I throw myself upon your breast, my father, I cling to you so that you cannot unloose me, I hold you so firm, till you answer me something.
1 1860 adds ‘‘ or shall write.’’ 2 1860 reads ‘‘ Striking me with insults till I fall helpless upon the sand,’’
3 After line 35, 1860 reads ‘‘ Because I was assuming so much.”’ 4 1860 reads ‘‘ You oceans both! You tangible land! Nature! Be not too rough with me —I submit—I close with you.”’
5 Line 38 added in 13870. ; 6 1860 ’67 read ‘‘ These little shreds shall, indeed, stand for all.”’
410 LEAVES OF GRASS
Kiss me, my father, 50
Touch me with your lips, as I touch those I love,
Breathe to me, while I hold you close, the secret of the mur- muring I envy.’
4
Ebb, ocean of life, (the flow will return, )
Cease not your moaning, you fierce old mother,
Endlessly cry for your castaways—but fear not, deny not me,
Rustle not up so hoarse and angry against my feet, as I touch you, or gather from you.
I mean tenderly by you and all, I gather for myself, and for this phantom, looking down where we lead, and following me and mine.
Me and mine!
We, loose winrows, little corpses, 60
Froth, snowy white, and bubbles,
(See! from my dead lips the ooze exuding at last!
See—the prismatic colors, glistening and rolling !)
Tufts of straw, sands, fragments,
Buoy’d hither from many moods, one contradicting another,
From the storm, the long calm, the darkness, the swell ;
Musing, pondering, a breath, a briny tear, a dab of liquid or soil ;
Up just as much out of fathomless workings fermented and thrown ;
A limp blossom or two, torn, just as much over waves floating, drifted at random ;
Just as much for us that sobbing dirge of Nature ; 70
Just as much, whence we come, that blare ‘of the cloud- trumpets 5
We, capricious, brought hither, we know not whence, spread out before you,
You, up there, walking or sitting,
Whoever you are—we too lie in drifts at your feet.
1 After line 52, 1860 adds ‘‘ For I fear I shall become crazed, if I cannot emulate it, and utter myself as well as it.
Sea-raff! Crook-tongued waves, O, I will yet sing, some day, what you have said to me.”’
SEA-SHORE REMEDIES 411
TEARS. First published in 1867
Tears! tears! tears !
In the night, in solitude, tears ;
On the white shore dripping, dripping, suck’d in by the sand ; Tears—not a star shining—all dark and desolate ;
Moist tears from the eyes of a muffled head :
—O who is that ghost >that form in the dark, with tears ? What shapeless lump is that, bent, crouch’d there on the sand ? Streaming tears—sobbing tears—throes, choked with wild cries ; O storm, embodied, rising, careering, with swift steps along the
beach ; O wild and dismal night storm, with wind! O belching and desperate ! Ife)
O shade, so sedate and decorous by day, with calm countenance and regulated pace ;
But away, at night, as you fly, none looking —O then the un- loosen’d ocean,
Of tears! tears! tears!
&*
ABOARD, AT A SHIP’S HELM.
First published in 1867,
ABOARD, at a ship’s helm, A young steersman, steering with care.
A bell through fog on a sea-coast dolefully ringing, An ocean-bell—O a warning bell, rock’d by the waves.
O you give good notice indeed, you bell by the sea-reefs ringing, Ringing, ringing, to warn the ship from its wreck-place.
For, as on the alert, O steersman, you mind the bell’s admoni- tion
The bows turn, —the freighted ship, tacking, speeds away under her gray sails,
The beautiful and noble ship, with all her precious wealth, speeds away gaily and safe.
But O the ship, the immortal ship! O ship aboard the ship! 10 O ship of the body—ship of the soul—voyaging, voyaging, voyaging.
412 LEAVES OF GRASS
ON THE BEACH, AT NIGHT. First published in 1870. I On the beach, at night, Stands a child, with her father, Watching the east, the autumn sky.
Up through the darkness,
While ravening clouds, the burial clouds, in black masses spread- ing,
Lower, sullen and fast, athwart and down the sky,
Amid a transparent clear belt of ether yet left in the east,
Ascends, large and calm, the lord-star Jupiter ;
And nigh at hand, only a very little above,
Swim the delicate brothers, the Pleiades. . ‘10
2
From the beach, the child, holding the hand of her father, Those burial-clouds that lower, victorious, soon to devour all, Watching, silently weeps.
Weep not, child,
Weep not, my darling,
With these kisses let me remove your tears ;
The ravening clouds shall not long be victorious,
They shall not long possess the sky—shall devour the stars only in apparition :
Jupiter shall emerge—be patient—watch again another night— the Pleiades shall emerge,
They are immortal—all those stars, both silvery and golden,
shall shine out again, 20 The great stars and the little ones shall shine out again—they endure ;
The vast immortal suns, and the long-enduring pensive moons, shall again shine. 3 Then, dearest child, mournest thou only for Jupiter? Considerest thou alone the burial of the stars ?
Something there is, (With my lips soothing thee, adding, I whisper,
SEA-SHORE MEMORIES 413
I give thee the first suggestion, the problem and indirection, ) Something there is more immortal even than the stars,
(Many the burials, many the days and nights, passing away, ) Something that shall endure longer even than lustrous Jupiter, 30 Longer than sun, or any revolving satellite,
Or the radiant brothers, the Pleiades.
& THE WORLD BELOW THE BRINE.
First published in 1867.
THE world below the brine ;
Forests at the bottom of the sea—the branches and leaves,
Sea-lettuce, vast lichens, strange flowers and seeds—the thick tangle, the openings, and the pink turf,
Different colors, pale gray and green, purple, white, and gold— the play of light through the water,
Dumb swimmers there among the rocks—coral, gluten, grass, rushes—and the aliment of the swimmers,
Sluggish existences grazing there, suspended, or slowly crawling close to the bottom,
The sperm-whale at the surface, blowing air and spray, or dis- porting with his flukes,
The leaden-eyed shark, the walrus, the turtle, the hairy sea- leopard, and the sting-ray ;
Passions there—wars, pursuits, tribes—sight in those ocean-depths —breathing that thick-breathing air, as so many do;
The change thence to the sight here, and to the subtle air breathed
by beings like us, who walk this sphere ; 10 The change onward from ours, to that of beings who walk other spheres. &*
ON THE BEACH AT NIGHT ALONE.
First published in 1856, under title of ‘* Clef Poem.”
On the beach at night alone,’
As the old mother sways her to and fro, singing her husky song,
As I watch the bright stars shining—I think a thought of the clef of the universes, and of the future.®
2
1 1856 60 begin the poem ‘‘ This Night I am happy.’’ Line 1 added in 1867.
2 Line 2 added in 1860, which reads ‘“‘ As I walk the beach where the old mother sways to and fro, singing her savage and husky song.”’
3 After line 3, 185660 add:
414 LEAVES OF GRASS
A VAST SIMILITDUE interlocks all,
All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets, comets, asteroids,
All the substances of the same, and all that is spiritual upon the same,
All distances of place, however wide,
All distances of time—all inanimate forms,
All Souls—all living bodies, though they be ever so different, or in different worlds,
All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes—the fishes, the brutes, Io
All men and women—me also ;
All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages ;
All identities that have existed, or may exist, on this globe, or any globe ;
All lives and deaths—all of the past, present, future ;
This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann’d, and shall forever span them, and compactly hold them, and enclose them. *
‘¢ What can the future bring me more than I have? Do you suppose I wish to enjoy life in other spheres ?
I say distinctly I comprehend no better sphere than this earth, I comprehend no better life than the life of my body.
I do not know what follows the death of my body, But I know well that whatever it is, it is best for me, And I know well that whatever is really Me shall live just as much as before.
I am not uneasy but I shall have good housing to myself, But this is my first—how can I like the rest any better ? Here I grew up—the studs and rafters are grown parts of me.
I am not uneasy but I am to be beloved by young and old men, and to love them the same,
I suppose the pink nipples of the breasts of women with whom I shall sleep will taste the same to my lips,*
But this is the nipple of a breast of my mother, always near and always divine to me, her true child and son, whatever comes. +
I suppose I am to be eligible to visit the stars, in my time, I suppose I shall have myriads of new experiences—and that the experience of this earth will prove only one out of myriads ; But I believe my body and my Soul already indicate those experiences, And I believe I shall find nothing in the stars more majestic and beautiful than I have already found on the earth, And I believe I have this night a clew through the universes, And I believe I have this night thought a thought of the clef of eternity.”’ «and enclose them’? added in 1870, * 1860 reads ‘will touch the side of my face the same.” t ‘‘Whatever comes’’ added in 1860,
LEAVES OF GRASS) 41S
LEAVES OF GRASS.
A CAROL OF HARVEST, FOR 1867. First published in 1870.
I
A sonc of the good green grass ! A song no more of the city streets ; A song of farms—a song of the soil of fields.
A song with the smell of sun-dried hay, where the nimble pitch- ers handle the pitch-fork ; A song tasting of new wheat, and of fresh-husk’d maize.
2
For the lands, and for these passionate days, and for myself, Now I awhile return to thee, O soil of Autumn fields, Reclining on thy breast, giving myself to thee,
Answering the pulses of thy sane and equable heart,
Tuning a verse for thee. Ke)
O Earth, that hast no voice, confide to me a voice!
O harvest of my lands! O boundless summer growths!
O lavish, brown, parturient earth! O infinite, teeming womb ! A verse to seek, to see, to narrate thee.
3
Ever upon this stage,
Is acted God’s calm, annual drama,
Gorgeous processions, songs of birds, |
Sunrise, that fullest feeds and freshens most the soul,
The heaving sea, the waves upon the shore, the musical, strong waves,
The woods, the stalwart trees, the slender, tapering trees, 20
The flowers, the grass, the lilliput, countless armies of the grass,
416 LEAVES OF GRASS
The heat, the showers, the measureless pasturages,
The scenery of the snows, the winds’ free orchestra,
The stretching, light-hung roof of clouds—the clear cerulean, and the bulging, silvery fringes,
The high dilating stars, the placid, beckoning stars,
The moving flocks and herds, the plains and emerald meadows,
The shows of all. the varied lands, and all the growths and products.
4
Fecund America! To-day,
Thou art all over set in births and joys !
Thou groan’st with riches! thy wealth clothes thee as with a swathing garment ! 30
Thou laughest loud with ache of great possessions !
A myriad-twining life, like interlacing vines, binds all thy vast demesne !
As some huge ship, freighted to water’s edge, thou ridest into port !
As rain falls from the heaven, and vapors rise from earth, so have the precious values fallen upon thee, and risen out of thee !
Thou envy of the globe! thou miracle !
Thou, bathed, choked, swimming in plenty !
Thou lucky Mistress of the tranquil barns!
Thou Prairie Dame that sittest in the middle, and lookest out upon thy world, and lookest East, and lookest West !
Dispensatress, that by a word givest a thousand miles—that giv’ st a million farms, and missest nothing !
Thou All-Acceptress—thou Hospitable—(thou only art hos- pitable, as God is hospitable. ) 40
5 When late I sang, sad was my voice ; Sad were the shows around me, with deafening noises of hatred, and smoke of conflict ; In the midst of the armies, the Heroes, I stood, Or pass’d with slow step through the wounded and dying.
But now I sing not War, Nor the measur’d march of soldiers, nor the tents of camps, Nor the regiments hastily coming up, deploying in line of battle.
No more the dead and wounded ; No more the sad, unnatural shows of War.
LEAVES OF GRASS 417
Ask’d room those flush’d immortal ranks ? the first forth-stepping armies ? Se Ask room, alas, the ghastly ranks—the armies dread that follow’ d.
6
(Pass—pass, ye proud brigades !
So handsome, dress’d in blue—with your tramping, sinewy legs ;
With your shoulders young and strong—with your knapsacks and your muskets ;
—How elate I stood and watch’d you, where, starting off, you march’d !
Pass ;—then rattle, drums, again !
Scream, you steamers on the river, out of whistles loud and shrill, your salutes !
For an army heaves in sight—O another gathering army !
Swarming, trailing on the rear—O you dread, accruing army !
O you regiments so piteous, with your mortal diarrhoea! with your fever ! 60
O my land’s maimed darlings! with the plenteous bloody band- age and the crutch !
Lo! your pallid army follow’d !)
7
But on these days of brightness,
On the far-stretching beauteous landscape, the roads and lanes, the high-piled farm-wagons, and the fruits and barns,
Shall the dead intrude ?
Ah, the dead to me mar not—they fit well in Nature ; They fit very well in the landscape, under the trees and grass, And along the edge of the sky, in the horizon’s far margin.
Nor do I forget you, departed ;
Nor in winter or summer, my lost ones ; 70
But most, in the open air, as now, when my soul is rapt and at peace—like pleasing phantoms,
Your dear memories, rising, glide silently by me.
8
I saw the day, the return of the Heroes ; (Yet the Heroes never surpass’d, shall never return ;
Them, that day, I saw not. ) 27
418 LEAVES OF GRASS
I saw the interminable Corps—I saw the processions of armies,
I saw them approaching, defiling by, with divisions,
Streaming northward, their work done, camping awhile in clus- ters of mighty camps.
No holiday soldiers !—youthful, yet veterans ;
Worn, swart, handsome, strong, of the stock of homestead and workshop,
Harden’d of many a long campaign and sweaty march, 80
Inured on many a hard-fought, bloody field.
A pause—the armies wait ;
A million flush’d, embattled conquerors wait ;
The world, too, waits—then, soft as breaking night, and sure as dawn,
They melt—they disappear.
Exult, indeed, O lands! victorious lands ! Not there your victory, on those red, shuddering fields ; But here and hence your victory.