From SONG OF MYSELF

　　1

　　I celebrate myself, and sing 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．

　　My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air,

　　Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,

　　I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,

　　Hoping to cease not till death．1

　　Creeds and schools in abeyance,

　　Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never for-gotten,

　　I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,

　　Nature without check with original energy．

　　6

　　A child said What is the grass？fetching it to me with full hands；

　　How could I answer the child？ I do not know what it is anymore than he．

　　I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, 2 out of hopeful en stuff woven．

　　Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,

　　A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,

　　Bearing the owner's name some way in the corners, that wemay see and remark, and say Whose？

　　Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation．

　　Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, 3

　　And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,

　　Growing among black folks as among white,

　　Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Conssman, Cuff, 4 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, or from offspring taken so on 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．

　　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 andm others, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps．

　　What do you think has ome of the young and old men？

　　And what do you think has ome 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．

　　All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,

　　And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier．

　　15

　　The pure contralto5 sings in the organ loft, 6

　　The carpenter dresses his plank, the tongue of his foreplane whistles its wild ascending lisp,

　　The married and unmarried children ride home to their Thanks-giving dinner,

　　The pilot seizes the king-pin, 7 he heaves down with a strong arm,

　　The mate stands braced in the whale-boat, lance and harpoon are ready,

　　The duck-shooter walks by silent and cautious stretches,

　　The deacons are ordain'd with cross'd hands at the altar,

　　The spinning-girl retreats and advances to the hum of the big wheel,

　　The farmer stops by the bars8 as he walks on a First-day9 loafeand looks at the oats and rye,

　　The lunatic is carried at last to the asylum a confirm'd case,

　　（He will never sleep any more as he did in the cot in his moth-er's bed-room；）

　　The jour printer10 with gray head and gaunt jaws works at his case,

　　He turns his quid of tobacco while his eyes blurr with the manuscript；

　　The malform'd limbs are tied to the surgeon's table,

　　What is removed drops horribly in a pail；

　　The quadroon girl is sold at the auction-stand, the drunkard nods by the bar-room stove,

　　The machinist rolls up his sleeves, the policeman travels his beat, the gate-keeper marks who pass,

　　The young fellow drives the express-wagon, （I love him, though I do not know him；）

　　The half-breed straps on his light boots to compete in the race,

　　The western turkey-shooting draws old and youg, some lean on their rifles, some sit on logs,

　　Out from the crowd steps the marksman, takes his position, levels his piece；

　　The groups of newly-come immigrants cover the wharf or levee,

　　As the woolly-pates hoe in the sugar-field, the overseer views them from his saddle,

　　The bugle calls in the ball-room, the gentlemen run for their partners, the dancers bow to each other,

　　The youth lies awake in the cedar-roof'd garret and harks to the musical rain,

　　The Wolverine11 sets traps on the creek that helps fill the Huron,

　　The squaw wrapt in her yellow-hemm'd cloth is offeringmoccasinsand bead-bags for sale,

　　The connoisseur peers along the exhibltion-gallery with half-shuteyes bent sideways,

　　As the deck-hands make fast the steamboat the plank is thrownfor the shore-going passengers,

　　The young sister holds out the skein while the elder sister windsit off in a ball, and stops now and then for the knots,

　　The one-year wife is recovering and happy having a week agoborne her first child,

　　The clean-hair'd Yankee girl works with her sewing-machine orin the factory or mill,

　　The paving-man12leans on his two-handed rammer, the reporter'slead flies swiftly over the note-book, the sign-painter is letter-ing with blue and gold,

　　The canal boy trots on the tow-path, the book-keeper counts at his desk, the shoemaker waxes his thread,

　　The conductor beats time for the band and all the performersfollow him,

　　The child is baptized, the convert is making his first professions,

　　The regatta is spread on the bay, the race is begun, （how thewhite sails sparkle！）

　　The drover watching his drove sings out to them that wouldstray,

　　The pedler sweats with his pack on his back, （the purchaser hig-gling about the odd cent；）

　　The bride unrumples her white dress, the minute-hand of theclock moves slowly,

　　The opium-eater reclines with rigid head and just-open'd lips,

　　The prostitute draggles her shawl, her bonnet bobs on her tipsyand pimpled neck,

　　The crowd laugh at her blackguardoaths, the men jeer and winkto each other,

　　（Miserable！ I do not laugh at your oaths nor jeer you；）

　　The President holding a cabinet council is surrounded by theat Seoretaries,

　　On the piazza walk three matrons stately and friendly with twinedarms,

　　The crew of the fish-smack pack repeated layers of halibut in the hold,

　　The Missourian crosses the plains toting his wares and his cattle,

　　As the fare-collector goes through the train he gives notice bythe jingling of loose change,

　　The floor-men are laying the floor, the tinners are tinning theroof, the masons are calling for mortar．

　　In single file each shouldering his hod pass onward the laborers；

　　Seasons pursuing each other the indescribable crowd is gather'd, itis the fourth of Seventh-month, （what salutes of cannon andsmall arms！）

　　Seasons pursuing each other the plougher ploughs, the mowermows, and the winter-grain falls in the ground；

　　Off on the lakes the pike-fisher watches and waits by the holein the frozen surface,

　　The stumps stand thick round the clearing, the squatter strikedeep with his axe,

　　Flatboatmen make fast towards dusk near the cotton-wood orpecan-trees,

　　Coon-seekers13go through the regions of the Red river or throughthose drain'd by the Tennessee, or through those of the Ar-kansas,

　　Torches shine in the dark that hangs on the Chattahooche orAltamahaw, 14

　　Patriarchs sit at supper with sons and grandsons and at-grand-sons around them,

　　In walls of adobie, in canvas tents, rest hunters and trappersafter their day's sport,

　　The city sleeps and the country sleeps,

　　The living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their time,

　　The old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husbandsleeps by his wife；

　　And these tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them,

　　And such as it is to be of these more or less I am,

　　And of these one and all I weave the song of myself．

　　16

　　I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise,

　　Regardless of others, ever regardful of others,

　　Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,

　　Stuff'd with the stuff that is coarse and stuff'd with the stuffthat is fine,

　　One of the Nation of many nations, the smallest the sameand the largest the same,

　　A Southerner soon as a Northerner, a planter nonchalant andhospitable down by the Oconee15 I live,

　　A Yankee bound my own way ready for trade, my joints thelimberest joints on earth and the sternest joints on earth,

　　A Kentuckian walking the vale of the Elkhorn in my deer-skinleggings, a Louisianian or Georgian,

　　A boatman over lakes or bays or along coasts, a Hoosier, Badg-er, Buckeye, 16

　　At home on Kanadian17 snow-shoes or up in the bush, or withfishermen off Newfoundland,

　　At home in the fleet of ice-boats, sailing with the rest andtacking,

　　At home on the hills of Vermont or in the woods of Maine, or the Texan ranch,

　　Comrade of Californians, comrade of free North-Westerners, （loving their big proportions, ）

　　Comrade of raftsmen and coalmen, comrade of all who shakehands and welcome to drink and meat,

　　A learner with the simplest, a teacher of the thoughtfullest,

　　A novice beginning yet experient of myriads of seasons,

　　Of every hue and caste am I, of every rank and religion,

　　A farmer, mechanic, artist, gentleman, sailor, quaker,

　　Prisoner, fancy-man, rowdy, lawyer, physician, priest．

　　I resist any thing better than my own diversity,

　　Breathe the air but leave plenty after me,

　　And am not stuck up, and am in my place．

　　（The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place,

　　The bright suns I see and the dark suns I cannot see are in their place,

　　The palpable is in its place and the impalpable is in its place．）

　　20

　　Who goes there？hankering, gross, mystical, nude；

　　How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat？

　　What is a man anyhow？what am I？what are you？

　　All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own,

　　Else it were time lost listening to me．

　　I do not snivel that snivel the world over,

　　That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth．

　　Whimpering and truckling fold with powders18 for invalids, con-formity goes to the fourth-remov'd, 19

　　I wear my hat as I please indoors or out．

　　Why should I pray？why should I venerate and be ceremonious？

　　Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsel'dwith doctors and calculated close,

　　I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.

　　In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn20 less,

　　And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them．

　　I know I am solid and sound,

　　To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow,

　　All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.

　　I know I am deathless,

　　I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter'scompass,

　　I know I shall not pass like a child's carlacue21cut with aburnt stick at night．

　　I know I am august,

　　I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood,

　　I see that the elementary laws never apologize,

　　（I reckon I behave no prouder thanthe level I plant my houseby, after all．）

　　I exist as I am, that is enough,

　　If no other in the world be aware I sit content,

　　And if each and all be aware I sit content.

　　One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that ismyself,

　　And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand orten million years,

　　I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I canwait．

　　My foothold is tenon'd and mortis'd22 in granite,

　　I laugh at what you call dissolution,

　　And I know the amplitude of time．

　　21

　　I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul,

　　The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hellare with me,

　　The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translateinto a new tongue．

　　I am the poet of the woman the same as the man,

　　And I say it is as at to be a woman as to be a man,

　　And I say there is nothing ater than the mother of men．

　　I chant the chant of dilation or pride,

　　We have had ducking and deprecating about enough,

　　I show that size is only development．

　　Have you outstript the rest？are you the President？

　　It is a trifle, they will more than arrive there every one, andstill pass on.

　　I am he that walks with the tender and growing night,

　　I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night．

　　Press close bare-bosom'd night-press close magnetic nourishingnight！

　　Night of south winds-night of the large few stars！

　　Still nodding night-mad naked summer night．

　　Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth！

　　Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees！

　　Earth of departed sunset-earth of the mountains misty-topt！

　　Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged withblue！

　　Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river！

　　Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for mysake！

　　Far-swooping elbow'd earth-rich apple-blossom'd earth！

　　Smile, for your lover comes.

　　Prodigal, you have given me love-therefore I to you give love！

　　O unspeakablepassionate love．

　　23

　　Endless unfolding of words of ages！

　　And mine a word of the modern, the word En-Masse．

　　A word of the faith that never balks,

　　Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Timeabsolutely．

　　It alone is without flaw, it alone rounds and completes all,

　　That mystic baffling wonder alone completes all．

　　I accept Reality and dare not question it,

　　Materialism first and last imbuing．

　　Hurrah for positive science！long live exact demonstration！

　　Fetch stonecrop23 mixt with cedar and branches of lilac,

　　This is the lexicographer, this the chemist, this made a gram-mar of the old cartouches, 24

　　These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas,

　　This is the geologist, this works with the scalpel, and this isa mathematician．

　　Gentlemen, to you the first honors always！

　　Your facts are useful, and yet they are not my dwelling,

　　I but enter by them to an area of my dwelling．

　　Less the reminders of properties told my words,

　　And more the reminders they of life untold, and of freedomand extrication,

　　And make short account of neuters and geldings, and favormen and women fully equipt,

　　And beat the gong of revolt, and stop with fugitives and themthat plot and conspire.

　　24

　　Walt Whitman, a kosmos, 25of Manhattan the son,

　　Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding,

　　No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apartfrom them,

　　No more modest than immodest．

　　Unscrew the locks from the doors！

　　Unscrew the doors thelves from their jambs！

　　Whoever degrades another degrades me,

　　And whatever is done or said returns at last to me．

　　Through me the afflatus26-surging and surging, through me thecurrent and index．

　　I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy,

　　By God！I will accept nothing which all cannot have their coun-terpart of on the same terms．

　　Through me many long dumb voices,

　　Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves,

　　Voices of the diseas'd and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs,

　　Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion,

　　And of the threads that connect the stars, and of wombs andof the father-stuff,

　　And of the rights of them the others are down upon,

　　Of the deform'd, trivial flat, foolish, despised,

　　Fog in the air, beetles rolling balls of dung．

　　Through me forbidden voices,

　　Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil'd and I remove the veil,

　　Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur'd．

　　I do not press my fingers across my mouth,

　　I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head andheart,

　　Copulation is no more rank to me than death is．

　　I believe in the flesh and the appetites,

　　Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag ofme is a miracle．

　　Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touchor am touch'd from,

　　The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer,

　　This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds．

　　If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spreadof my own body, or any part of it,

　　Translucent mould of me it shall be you！

　　Shaded ledges and rests it shall be you！

　　Firm masculine colter27it shall be you！

　　Whatever goes to the tilth28of me it shall be you！

　　You my rich blood！your milky stream pale strippings of mylife！

　　Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you！

　　My brain it shall be your occult convolutions！

　　Root of wash'd sweet-flag！timorous pond-snipe！nest of guardedduplicate eggs！it shall be you！

　　Mix'd tussled hay of head, beard, brawn, it shall be you！

　　Trickling sap of maple, fibre of manly wheat, it shall be you！

　　Sun so generous it shall be you！

　　Vapors lighting and shading my face it shall be you！

　　You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you！

　　Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me it shall be you！

　　Broad muscular fields, branches of live oak, loving lounger inmy winding paths, it shall be you！

　　Hands I have taken, face I have kiss'd, mortal I have evertouch'd, it shall be you．

　　I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious,

　　Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy,

　　I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause ofmy faintest wish,

　　Nor the cause of the friendship I emit, nor the cause of thefriendship take again．

　　That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be,

　　A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than themetaphysics of books.

　　To behold the day-break！

　　The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows,

　　The air tastes good to my palate．

　　Hefts29of the moving world at innocent gambols silently risingfreshly exuding,

　　Scooting obliquely high and low.

　　Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous prongs,

　　Seas of bright juice suffuse heaven．

　　The earth by the sky staid with, the daily close of their junc-tion,

　　The heav'd challenge from the east that moment over my head,

　　The mocking taunt, See then whether you shall be master！

　　31

　　I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work ofthe stars,

　　And the pismire30 is equally perfect, and a grain of sand, andthe egg of the wren,

　　And the tree-toad is a chef-d'oeuvre for the highest,

　　And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors of heaven,

　　And the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all machin-ery,

　　And the cow crunching with dcpress'd head surpasses any statue,