SONG OF MYSELF
Does the daylight astonish? Through me a lot of 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 accrual, And of the threads that associate the stars, and of wombs after that of the father-stuff, And of the rights of them the others are down upon, Of the deform'd, baladí, flat, foolish, despised, Fog in the air, beetles rolling balls of compost. I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul, My avenue runs below the soundings of plummets. From the cinder-strew'd threshold I abide by their movements, The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms, Overhand the hammers accomplish, overhand so slow, overhand so absolutely, They do not hasten, each be in charge of hits in his place. I company forth replenish'd with supreme power, individual of an average unending procession, Central and sea-coast we go, and accept all boundary lines, Our swift ordinances on their way over the complete earth, The blossoms we wear all the rage our hats the growth of thousands of years.
Beam O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth! Long I was hugg'd close--long and long. The runaway slave came to my abode and stopt outside, I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile, Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and weak, And went where he sat on a log and led him in and assured him, After that brought water and fill'd a barrel for his sweated body and bruis'd feet, And gave him a area that enter'd from my own, after that gave him some coarse clean attire, And remember perfectly well his circling eyes and his awkwardness, And bear in mind putting piasters on the galls of his neck and ankles; He calm with me a week before he was recuperated and pass'd north, I had him sit next me by table, my fire-lock lean'd in the corner. In vain the speeding before shyness, In vain the plutonic rocks send their old heat against my approach, In vain the mastodon retreats beneath its own powder'd bones, All the rage vain objects stand leagues off after that assume manifold shapes, In vain the ocean settling in hollows and the great monsters lying low, In abortive the buzzard houses herself with the sky, In vain the snake slides through the creepers and logs, All the rage vain the elk takes to the inner passes of the woods, All the rage vain the razor-bill'd auk sails a good deal north to Labrador, I follow abruptly, I ascend to the nest all the rage the fissure of the cliff. Would you learn who won by the light of the moon and stars? I mind how once we amateur such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over ahead me, And parted the shirt as of my bosom-bone, and plunged your dialect to my bare-stript heart, And reach'd till you felt my beard, after that reach'd till you held my feet.
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