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CHILDREN OF ADAM.

TO THE GARDEN, THE WORLD.

TO THE garden, the world, anew ascending,

Potent mates, daughters, sons, preluding,

The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being,

Curious, here behold my resurrection, after slumber;

The revolving cycles, in their wide sweep, having brought          me again,

Amorous, mature—all beautiful to me—all wondrous;

My limbs, and the quivering fire that ever plays through          them, for reasons, most wondrous;

Existing, I peer and penetrate still,

Content with the present—content with the past,

By my side, or back of me, Eve following,

Or in front, and I following her just the same.

FROM PENT-UP ACHING RIVERS.

FROM pent-up, aching rivers;

From that of myself, without which I were nothing;

From what I am determin'd to make illustrious, even          if I stand sole among men;

From my own voice resonant—singing the phallus,

Singing the song of procreation,

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Singing the need of superb children, and therein superb          grown people,

Singing the muscular urge and the blending,

Singing the bedfellow's song, (O resistless yearning!

O for any and each, the body correlative attracting!

O for you, whoever you are, your correlative body! O          it, more than all else, you delighting!)

—From the hungry gnaw that eats me night and          day;

From native moments—from bashful pains—singing          them;

Singing something yet unfound, though I have dili-          gently sought it, many a long year;

Singing the true song of the Soul, fitful, at random;

Singing what, to the Soul, entirely redeem'd her, the          faithful one, even the prostitute, who detain'd          me when I went to the city;

Singing the song of prostitutes;

Renascent with grossest Nature, or among animals;

Of that—of them, and what goes with them, my poems          informing;

Of the smell of apples and lemons—of the pairing of          birds,

Of the wet of woods—of the lapping of waves,

Of the mad pushes of waves upon the land—I them          chanting;

The overture lightly sounding—the strain anticipat-          ing;

The welcome nearness—the sight of the perfect body;

The swimmer swimming naked in the bath, or motion-          less on his back lying and floating;

The female form approaching—I, pensive, love-flesh          tremulous, aching;

The divine list, for myself or you, or for any one, mak-          ing;

The face—the limbs—the index from head to foot, and          what it arouses;

The mystic deliria—the madness amorous—the utter          abandonment;

(Hark close, and still, what I now whisper to you,

I love you—O you entirely possess me,

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O I wish that you and I escape from the rest, and go          utterly off—O free and lawless,

Two hawks in the air—two fishes swimming in the sea          not more lawless than we;)

—The furious storm through me careering—I passion-          ately trembling;

The oath of the inseparableness of two together—of the          woman that loves me, and whom I love more than          my life—that oath swearing;

(O I willingly stake all, for you!

O let me be lost, if it must be so!

O you and I—what is it to us what the rest do or          think?

What is all else to us? only that we enjoy each other,          and exhaust each other, if it must be so:)

—From the master—the pilot I yield the vessel to;

The general commanding me, commanding all—from          him permission taking;

From time the programme hastening, (I have loiter'd          too long, as it is;)

From sex—From the warp and from the woof;

(To talk to the perfect girl who understands me,

To waft to her these from my own lips—to effuse them          from my own body;)

From privacy—from frequent repinings alone;

From plenty of persons near, and yet the right person          not near;

From the soft sliding of hands over me, and thrusting          of fingers through my hair and beard;

From the long sustain'd kiss upon the mouth or          bosom;

From the close pressure that makes me or any man          drunk, fainting with excess;

From what the divine husband knows—from the work          of fatherhood;

From exultation, victory, and relief—from the bedfel-          low's embrace in the night;

From the act-poems of eyes, hands, hips, and bosoms,

From the cling of the trembling arm,

From the bending curve and the clinch,

From side by side, the pliant coverlid off-throwing,

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From the one so unwilling to have me leave—and me          just as unwilling to leave,

(Yet a moment, O tender waiter, and I return;)

—From the hour of shining stars and dropping dews,

From the night, a moment, I, emerging, flitting out,

Celebrate you, act divine—and you, children prepared          for,

And you, stalwart loins.

I SING THE BODY ELECTRIC.

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1   I SING the Body electric;

The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth          them;

They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to          them,

And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the          charge of the Soul.

2   Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own          bodies conceal themselves?

And if those who defile the living are as bad as they          who defile the dead?

And if the body does not do as much as the Soul?

And if the body were not the Soul, what is the Soul?

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3   The love of the Body of man or woman balks ac-          count—the body itself balks account;

That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is          perfect.

4   The expression of the face balks account;

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But the expression of a well-made man appears not          only in his face;

It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the          joints of his hips and wrists;

It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his          waist and knees—dress does not hide him;

The strong, sweet, supple quality he has, strikes through          the cotton and flannel;

To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem,          perhaps more;

You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck          and shoulder-side.

5   The sprawl and fulness of babes, the bosoms and          heads of women, the folds of their dress, their          style as we pass in the street, the contour of          their shape downwards,

The swimmer naked in the swimming-bath, seen as he          swims through the transparent green-shine, or          lies with his face up, and rolls silently to and fro          in the heave of the water,

The bending forward and backward of rowers in row-          boats—the horseman in his saddle,

Girls, mothers, house-keepers, in all their performances,

The group of laborers seated at noon-time with their          open dinner-kettles, and their wives waiting,

The female soothing a child—the farmer's daughter in          the garden or cow-yard,

The young fellow hoeing corn—the sleigh-driver guiding          his six horses through the crowd,

The wrestle of wrestlers, two apprentice-boys, quite          grown, lusty, good natured, native-born, out on          the vacant lot at sun-down, after work,

The coats and caps thrown down, the embrace of love          and resistance,

The upper-hold and under-hold, the hair rumpled over          and blinding the eyes;

The march of firemen in their own costumes, the play          of masculine muscle through clean-setting trow-          sers and waist-straps,

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The slow return from the fire, the pause when the bell          strikes suddenly again, and the listening on the          alert,

The natural, perfect, varied attitudes—the bent head,          the curv'd neck, and the counting;

Such-like I love—I loosen myself, pass freely, am at the          mother's breast with the little child,

Swim with the swimmers, wrestle with wrestlers, march          in line with the firemen, and pause, listen, and          count.

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6   I knew a man, a common farmer—the father of five          sons;

And in them were the fathers of sons—and in them          were the fathers of sons.

7   This man was of wonderful vigor, calmness, beauty of          person;

The shape of his head, the pale yellow and white of his          hair and beard, and the immeasurable meaning of          his black eyes—the richness and breadth of his          manners,

These I used to go and visit him to see—he was wise          also;

He was six feet tall, he was over eighty years old—his          sons were massive, clean, bearded, tan-faced,          handsome;

They and his daughters loved him—all who saw him          loved him;

They did not love him by allowance—they loved him          with personal love!

He drank water only—the blood show'd like scarlet          through the clear-brown skin of his face;

He was a frequent gunner and fisher—he sail'd his boat          himself—he had a fine one presented to him by          a ship-joiner—he had fowling-pieces, presented to          him by men that loved him;

When he went with his five sons and many grand-sons          to hunt or fish, you would pick him out as the          most beautiful and vigorous of the gang,

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You would wish long and long to be with him—you          would wish to sit by him in the boat, that you          and he might touch each other.

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8   I have perceiv'd that to be with those I like is enough,

To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,

To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing,          laughing flesh is enough,

To pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my arm          ever so lightly round his or her neck for a mo-          ment—what is this, then?

I do not ask any more delight—I swim in it, as in a sea.

9   There is something in staying close to men and women,          and looking on them, and in the contact and          odor of them, that pleases the soul well;

All things please the soul—but these please the soul          well.

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10   This is the female form;

A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot;

It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction!

I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a          helpless vapor—all falls aside but myself and it;

Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth,          the atmosphere and the clouds, and what was          expected of heaven or fear'd of hell, are now          consumed;

Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it—the          response likewise ungovernable;

Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands,          all diffused—mine too diffused;

Ebb stung by the flow, and flow stung by the ebb—          love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching;

Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quiver-          ing jelly of love, white-blow and delirious juice;

Bridegroom night of love, working surely and softly          into the prostrate dawn;

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Undulating into the willing and yielding day,

Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh'd day.

11   This is the nucleus—after the child is born of woman,          the man is born of woman;

This is the bath of birth—this is the merge of small          and large, and the outlet again.

12   Be not ashamed, women—your privilege encloses the          rest, and is the exit of the rest;

You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of          the soul.

13   The female contains all qualities, and tempers them          —she is in her place, and moves with perfect          balance;

She is all things duly veil'd—she is both passive and          active;

She is to conceive daughters as well as sons, and sons          as well as daughters.

14   As I see my soul reflected in nature;

As I see through a mist, one with inexpressible com-          pleteness and beauty,

See the bent head, and arms folded over the breast—          the female I see.

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15   The male is not less the soul, nor more—he too is in          his place;

He too is all qualities—he is action and power;

The flush of the known universe is in him;

Scorn becomes him well, and appetite and defiance be-          come him well:

The wildest largest passions, bliss that is utmost, sor-          row that is utmost, become him well—pride is          for him;

The full-spread pride of man is calming and excellent          to the soul;

Knowledge becomes him—he likes it always—he brings          everything to the test of himself;

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Whatever the survey, whatever the sea and the sail, he          strikes soundings at last only here;

(Where else does he strike soundings, except here?)

16   The man's body is sacred, and the woman's body is          sacred;

No matter who it is, it is sacred;

Is it a slave? Is it one of the dull-faced immigrants          just landed on the wharf?

Each belongs here or anywhere, just as much as the          well off—just as much as you;

Each has his or her place in the procession.

17   (All is a procession;

The universe is a procession, with measured and beau-          tiful motion.)

18   Do you know so much yourself, that you call the slave          or the dull-face ignorant?

Do you suppose you have a right to a good sight, and          he or she has no right to a sight?

Do you think matter has cohered together from its dif-          fuse float—and the soil is on the surface, and          water runs, and vegetation sprouts,

For you only, and not for him and her?

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19   A man's Body at auction;

I help the auctioneer—the sloven does not half know          his business.

20   Gentlemen, look on this wonder!

Whatever the bids of the bidders, they cannot be high          enough for it;

For it the globe lay preparing quintillions of years,          without one animal or plant;

For it the revolving cycles truly and steadily roll'd.

21   In this head the all-baffling brain;

In it and below it, the makings of heroes.

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22   Examine these limbs, red, black, or white—they are          so cunning in tendon and nerve;

They shall be stript, that you may see them.

23   Exquisite senses, life-lit eyes, pluck, volition,

Flakes of breast-muscle, pliant back-bone and neck, flesh          not flabby, good-sized arms and legs,

And wonders within there yet.

24   Within there runs blood,

The same old blood!