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LEAVES OF GRASS.

1.

1   ELEMENTAL drifts!

O I wish I could impress others as you and the waves          have just been impressing me.

2   As I ebbed with an ebb of the ocean of life,

As I wended the shores I know,

As I walked where the sea-ripples wash you, Pau-          manok,

Where they rustle up, hoarse and sibilant,

Where the fierce old mother endlessly cries for her          castaways,

I, musing, late in the autumn day, gazing off south-          ward,

Alone, held by the eternal self of me that threatens          to get the better of me, and stifle me,

Was seized by the spirit that trails in the lines          underfoot,

In the rim, the sediment, that stands for all the water          and all the land of the globe.

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3   Fascinated, my eyes, reverting from the south,          dropped, to follow those slender winrows,

Chaff, straw, splinters of wood, weeds, and the sea-          gluten,

Scum, scales from shining rocks, leaves of salt-          lettuce, left by the tide;

Miles walking, the sound of breaking waves the other          side of me,

Paumanok, there and then, as I thought the old          thought of likenesses,

These you presented to me, you fish-shaped island,

As I wended the shores I know,

As I walked with that eternal self of me, seeking          types.

4   As I wend the shores I know not,

As I listen to the dirge, the voices of men and women          wrecked,

As I inhale the impalpable breezes that set in          upon me,

As the ocean so mysterious rolls toward me closer          and closer,

At once I find, the least thing that belongs to me, or          that I see or touch, I know not;

I, too, but signify, at the utmost, a little washed-up          drift,

A few sands and dead leaves to gather,

Gather, and merge myself as part of the sands and          drift.

5   O baffled, balked,

Bent to the very earth, here preceding what follows,

Oppressed with myself that I have dared to open my          mouth,

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Aware now, that, amid all the 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 ME          still stands untouched, untold, altogether un-          reached,

Withdrawn far, mocking me with mock-congrat-          ulatory signs and bows,

With peals of distant ironical laughter at every word          I have written or shall write,

Striking me with insults till I fall helpless upon the          sand.

6   O I perceive I have not understood anything—not a          single object—and that no man ever can.

7   I perceive Nature here, in sight of the sea, is taking          advantage of me, to dart upon me, and sting me,

Because I was assuming so much,

And because I have dared to open my mouth to sing          at all.

8   You oceans both! You tangible land! Nature!

Be not too rough with me—I submit—I close with          you,

These little shreds shall, indeed, stand for all.

9   You friable shore, with trails of debris!

You fish-shaped island! I take what is underfoot;

What is yours is mine, my father.

10   I too Paumanok,

I too have bubbled up, floated the measureless float,          and been washed on your shores;

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I too am but a trail of drift and debris,

I too leave little wrecks upon you, you fish-shaped          island.

11   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.

12   Kiss me, my father,

Touch me with your lips, as I touch those I love,

Breathe to me, while I hold you close, the secret of          the wondrous murmuring I envy,

For I fear I shall become crazed, if I cannot emulate          it, and utter myself as well as it.

13   Sea-raff! Crook-tongued waves!

O, I will yet sing, some day, what you have said          to me.

14   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.

15   I mean tenderly by you,

I gather for myself, and for this phantom, looking          down where we lead, and following me and          mine.

16   Me and mine!

We, loose winrows, little corpses,

Froth, snowy white, and bubbles,

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(See! from my dead lips the ooze exuding at last!

See—the prismatic colors, glistening and rolling!)

Tufts of straw, sands, fragments,

Buoyed 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 fer-          mented 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,

Just as much, whence we come, that blare of the          cloud-trumpets;

We, capricious, brought hither, we know not whence,          spread out before You, up there, walking or          sitting,

Whoever you are—we too lie in drifts at your feet.

2.

1   GREAT are the myths—I too delight in them,

Great are Adam and Eve—I too look back and          accept them,

Great the risen and fallen nations, and their poets,          women, sages, inventors, rulers, warriors, and          priests.

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2   Great is Liberty! great is Equality! I am their fol-          lower,

Helmsmen of nations, choose your craft! where you          sail, I sail,

Yours is the muscle of life or death—yours is the          perfect science—in you I have absolute faith.

3   Great is To-day, and beautiful,

It is good to live in this age—there never was any          better.

4   Great are the plunges, throes, triumphs, downfalls of          Democracy,

Great the reformers, with their lapses and screams,

Great the daring and venture of sailors, on new ex-          plorations.

5   Great are Yourself and Myself,

We are just as good and bad as the oldest and young-          est or any,

What the best and worst did, we could do,

What they felt, do not we feel it in ourselves?

What they wished, do we not wish the same?

6   Great is Youth—equally great is Old Age—great          are the Day and Night,

Great is Wealth—great is Poverty—great is Ex-          pression—great is Silence.

7   Youth, large, lusty, loving—Youth, full of grace,          force, fascination,

Do you know that Old Age may come after you, with          equal grace, force, fascination?

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8   Day, full-blown and splendid—Day of the immense          sun, action, ambition, laughter,

The Night follows close, with millions of suns, and          sleep, and restoring darkness.

9   Wealth with the flush hand, fine clothes, hospitality,

But then the Soul's wealth, which is candor, knowl-          edge, pride, enfolding love;

(Who goes for men and women showing Poverty          richer than wealth?)

10   Expression of speech! in what is written or said, for-          get not that Silence is also expressive,

That anguish as hot as the hottest, and contempt as          cold as the coldest, may be without words,

That the true adoration is likewise without words,          and without kneeling.

11   Great is the greatest Nation—the nation of clusters          of equal nations.

12   Great is the Earth, and the way it became what it is;

Do you imagine it is stopped at this? the increase          abandoned?

Understand then that it goes as far onward from          this, as this is from the times when it lay in          covering waters and gases, before man had ap-          peared.

13   Great is the quality of Truth in man,

The quality of truth in man supports itself through          all changes,

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It is inevitably in the man—he and it are in love,          and never leave each other.

14   The truth in man is no dictum, it is vital as eye-          sight,

If there be any Soul, there is truth—if there be man          or woman, there is truth—if there be physical          or moral, there is truth,

If there be equilibrium or volition, there is truth—          if there be things at all upon the earth, there          is truth.

15   O truth of the earth! O truth of things! I am de-          termined to press my way toward you,

Sound your voice! I scale mountains, or dive in the          sea after you.

16   Great is Language—it is the mightiest of the sci-          ences,

It is the fulness, color, form, diversity of the earth,          and of men and women, and of all qualities          and processes,

It is greater than wealth—it is greater than build-          ings, ships, religions, paintings, music.

17   Great is the English speech—what speech is so          great as the English?

Great is the English brood—what brood has so vast          a destiny as the English?

It is the mother of the brood that must rule the earth          with the new rule,

The new rule shall rule as the Soul rules, and as the          love, justice, equality in the Soul, rule.

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18   Great is Law—great are the old few landmarks of          the law,

They are the same in all times, and shall not be          disturbed.

19   Great are commerce, newspapers, books, free-trade,          railroads, steamers, international mails, tele-          graphs, exchanges.

20   Great is Justice!

Justice is not settled by legislators and laws—it is in          the Soul,

It cannot be varied by statues, any more than love,          pride, the attraction of gravity, can,

It is immutable—it does not depend on majorities—          majorities or what not come at last before the          same passionless and exact tribunal.

21   For justice are the grand natural lawyers and perfect          judges—it is in their Souls,

It is well assorted—they have not studied for noth-          ing—the great includes the less,

They rule on the highest grounds—they oversee all          eras, states, administrations.

22   The perfect judge fears nothing—he could go front          to front before God,

Before the perfect judge all shall stand back—life          and death shall stand back—heaven and hell          shall stand back.

23   Great is Goodness!

I do not know what it is, any more than I know what          health is—but I know it is great.

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24   Great is Wickedness—I find I often admire it, just as          much as I admire goodness,

Do you call that a paradox? It certainly is a paradox.

25   The eternal equilibrium of things is great, and the          eternal overthrow of things is great,

And there is another paradox.

26   Great is Life, real and mystical, wherever and whoever,

Great is Death—sure as Life holds all parts together,          Death holds all parts together,

Death has just as much purport as Life has,

Do you enjoy what Life confers? you shall enjoy what          Death confers,

I do not understand the realities of Death, but I know          they are great,

I do not understand the least reality of Life—how then          can I understand the realities of Death?

3.

1   A YOUNG man came to me with a message from his          brother,

How should the young man know the whether and          when of his brother?

Tell him to send me the signs.

2   And I stood before the young man face to face, and          took his right hand in my left hand, and his left          hand in my right hand,

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And I answered for his brother, and for men, and I          answered for THE POET, and sent these signs.

3   Him all wait for—him all yield up to—his word is          decisive and final,

Him they accept, in him lave, in him perceive them-          selves, as amid light,

Him they immerse, and he immerses them.

4   Beautiful women, the haughtiest nations, laws, the          landscape, people, animals,

The profound earth and its attributes, and the unquiet          ocean,

All enjoyments and properties, and money, and what-          ever money will buy,

The best farms—others toiling and planting, and he          unavoidably reaps,

The noblest and costliest cities—others grading and          building, and he domiciles there,

Nothing for any one, but what is for him—near and          far are for him,

The ships in the offing—the perpetual shows and          marches on land, are for him, if they are for any          body.

5   He puts things in their attitudes,

He puts to-day out of himself, with plasticity and          love,

He places his own city, times, reminiscences, parents,          brothers and sisters, associations, employment,          politics, so that the rest never shame them after-          ward, nor assume to command them.

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6   He is the answerer,

What can be answered he answers—and what cannot          be answered, he shows how it cannot be answered.

7   A man is a summons and challenge;

(It is vain to skulk—Do you hear that mocking and          laughter? Do you hear the ironical echoes?)

8   Books, friendships, philosophers, priests, action, pleas-          ure, pride, beat up and down, seeking to give          satisfaction,

He indicates the satisfaction, and indicates them that          beat up and down also.

9   Whichever the sex, whatever the season or place, he          may go freshly and gently and safely, by day or          by night,

He has the pass-key of hearts—to him the response          of the prying of hands on the knobs.

10   His welcome is universal—the flow of beauty is not          more welcome or universal than he is,

The person he favors by day or sleeps with at night is          blessed.

11   Every existence has its idiom—everything has an          idiom and tongue,

He resolves all tongues into his own, and bestows it          upon men, and any man translates, and any man          translates himself also,

One part does not counteract another part—he is the          joiner—he sees how they join.

12   He says indifferently and alike, How are you, friend?          to the President at his levee,

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And he says, Good-day, my brother! to Cudge that          hoes in the sugar-field,

And both understand him, and know that his speech          is right.

13   He walks with perfect ease in the capitol,

He walks among the Congress, and one representative          says to another, Here is our equal, appearing and           new .

14   Then the mechanics take him for a mechanic,

And the soldiers suppose him to be a captain, and the          sailors that he has followed the sea,

And the authors take him for an author, and the          artists for an artist,

And the laborers perceive he could labor with them          and love them,

No matter what the work is, that he is the one to fol-          low it, or has followed it,

No matter what the nation, that he might find his          brothers and sisters there.

15   The English believe he comes of their English stock,

A Jew to the Jew he seems—a Russ to the Russ—          usual and near, removed from none.

16   Whoever he looks at in the traveller's coffee-house          claims him,

The Italian or Frenchman is sure, and the German is          sure, and the Spaniard is sure, and the island          Cuban is sure;

The engineer, the deck-hand on the great lakes, or on          the Mississippi, or St. Lawrence, or Sacramento,          or Hudson, or Paumanok Sound, claims him.

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17   The gentleman of perfect blood acknowledges his per-          fect blood,

The insulter, the prostitute, the angry person, the          beggar, see themselves in the ways of him—he          strangely transmutes them,

They are not vile any more—they hardly know them-          selves, they are so grown.

18   Do you think it would be good to be the writer of          melodious verses?

Well, it would be good to be the writer of melodious          verses;

But what are verses beyond the flowing character you          could have? or beyond beautiful manners and          behavior?

Or beyond one manly or affectionate deed of an ap-          prentice-boy? or old woman? or man that has          been in prison, or is likely to be in prison?

4.

1   SOMETHING startles me where I thought I was safest,

I withdraw from the still woods I loved,

I will not go now on the pastures to walk,

I will not strip the clothes from my body to meet my          lover the sea,

I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other          flesh, to renew me.

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2   O Earth!

O how can the ground of you not sicken?

How can you be alive, you growths of spring?

How can you furnish health, you blood of herbs, roots,          orchards, grain?

Are they not continually putting distempered corpses          in you?

Is not every continent worked over and over with sour          dead?

3   Where have you disposed of those carcasses of the          drunkards and gluttons of so many generations?

Where have you drawn off all the foul liquid and meat?

I do not see any of it upon you to-day—or perhaps          I am deceived,

I will run a furrow with my plough—I will press          my spade through the sod, and turn it up un-          derneath,

I am sure I shall expose some of the foul meat.

4   Behold!

This is the compost of billions of premature corpses,

Perhaps every mite has once formed part of a sick          person—Yet behold!

The grass covers the prairies,

The bean bursts noiselessly through the mould in the          garden,

The delicate spear of the onion pierces upward,

The apple-buds cluster together on the apple-branches,

The resurrection of the wheat appears with pale visage          out of its graves,

The tinge awakes over the willow-tree and the mul-          berry-tree,

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The he-birds carol mornings and evenings, while the          she-birds sit on their nests,

The young of poultry break through the hatched eggs,

The new-born of animals appear—the calf is dropt          from the cow, the colt from the mare,

Out of its little hill faithfully rise the potato's dark          green leaves,

Out of its hill rises the yellow maize-stalk;

The summer growth is innocent and disdainful above          all those strata of sour dead.

5   What chemistry!

That the winds are really not infectious,

That this is no cheat, this transparent green-wash of          the sea, which is so amorous after me,

That it is safe to allow it to lick my naked body all          over with its tongues,

That it will not endanger me with the fevers that          have deposited themselves in it,

That all is clean, forever and forever,

That the cool drink from the well tastes so good,

That blackberries are so flavorous and juicy,

That the fruits of the apple-orchard, and of the          orange-orchard—that melons, grapes, peaches,          plums, will none of them poison me,

That when I recline on the grass I do not catch any          disease,

Though probably every spear of grass rises out of          what was once a catching disease.

6   Now I am terrified at the Earth! it is that calm and          patient,

It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions,

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It turns harmless and stainless on its axis, with such          endless successions of diseased corpses,

It distils such exquisite winds out of suc