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Leaves of Grass (1860)
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14.
| NOT heat flames up and consumes, |
| Not sea-waves hurry in and out, |
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Not the air, delicious and dry, the air of the ripe
summer, bears lightly along white down-balls of myriads of seeds, wafted, sailing gracefully, to drop where they may, |
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Not these—O none of these, more than the flames
of me, consuming, burning for his love whom I love! |
| O none, more than I, hurrying in and out; |
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Does the tide hurry, seeking something, and never
give up? O I the same; |
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O nor down-balls, nor perfumes, nor the high
rain-emitting clouds, are borne through the open air, |
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Any more than my Soul is borne through the open
air, |
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Wafted in all directions, O love, for friendship, for
you. |