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 offering moccasinsand 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,
[1] [2] [3] [4] 下一页
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 unspeakable passionate 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,
上一页 [1] [2] [3] [4] 下一页
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,
And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels．
I find I incorporate gneiss, 31coal, long-threaded moss, fruits, grains, esculent roots,
And am stucco'd with quadrupeds and birds all over,
And have distanced what is behind me for good reasons,
But call any thing back again when I desire it．
In vain the speeding or shyness,
In vain the plutonic rocks32 send their old heat against myapproach,
In vain the mastodon retreats beneath its own powder'd bones,
In vain objects stand leagues off and assume manifold shapes,
In vain the ocean settling in hollows and the at monsterslying low,
In vain the buzzard houses herself with the sky,
In vain the snake slides through the creepers and logs,
In vain the elk takes to the inner passes of the woods,
In vain the razor-bill'd auk sails far north to Labrador, 33
I follow quickly, I ascend to the nest in the fissure of the cliff．
33
Space and Time！ now I see it is true what I guessed at,
What I guess'd when I loaf'd on the grass,
What I guess'd while I lay alone in my bed,
And again as I walk'd the beach under the paling stars of themorning．
My ties and ballasts leave me my elbows rest in sea-gaps, 34
I skirt sierras, my palms cover continents,
I am afoot with my vision．
By the city's quadrangular houses-in log huts, camping withlumbermen,
Along the ruts of the turnpike, along the dry gulch and rivuletbed,
Weeding my onion-patch or hoeing rows of carrots and parsnips, crossing savannas, 35 trailing in forests,
Prospecting, gold-digging, girdling the trees of a new purchase,
Scorch'd ankle-deep by the hot sand, hauling my boat downthe shallow river,
Where the panther walks to and fro on a limb overhead, wherethe buck turns furiously at the hunter,
Where the rattlesnake suns his flabby length on a rock, wherethe otter is feeding on fish,
Where the alligator in his tough pimples sleeps by the bayou,
Where the black bear is searching for roots or honey, wherethe beaver pats the mud with his paddle-shaped tail；
Over the growing sugar, over the yellow-flower'd cotton plant, over the rice in its low moist field,
Over the sharp-peak'd farm house, with its scallop'd scum36and slender shoots from the gutters,
Over the western persimmon, over the long-leav'd corn, overthe delicate blue-flower flax,
Over the white and brown buckwheat, a hummer and buzzerthere with the rest,
Over the dusky en of the rye as it ripples and shades inthe breeze；
Scaling mountains, pulling myself cautiously up, holding on bylow scragged limbs,
Walking the path worn in the grass and beat through the leavesof the brush,
Where the quail is whisting betwixt the woods and the wheat-lot,
Where the bat flies in the Seventh-month eve, where the atgoldbug drops through the dark,
Where the brook puts out of the roots of the old tree andflows to the meadow,
Where cattle stand and shake away flies with the tremulousshuddering of their hides,
Where the cheese-cloth hangs in the kitchen, where andironsstraddle the hearth-slab, where cobwebs fall in festoonsfrom the rafters；
Where trip-hammers crash, where the press is whirling itscylinders,
Wherever the human heart beats with terrible throes underits ribs,
Where the pear-shaped balloon is floating aloft, （floating in itmyself and looking composedly down, ）
Where the life-car37 is drawn on the slip-noose, where the heathatches pale-en eggs in the dented sand,
Where the she-whale swims withher calf and never forsakes it,
Where the steam-ship trails hind-ways its long pennant ofsmoke,
Where the fin of the shark cuts like a black chip out of thewater,
Where the half-burn'd brig is riding on unknown currents,
Where shells grow to her slimy deck, where the dead are cor-rupting below；
Where the dense-starr'd flag is borne at the head of the regi-ments,
Approaching Manhattan up by the long-stretching island,
Under Niagara, the cataract falling like a veil over my coun-tenance,
Upon a door-step, upon the horse-block of hard wood outside,
Upon the race-course, or enjoying picnics or jigs or a goodgame of base-ball,
At he-festivals, with blackguard gibes, ironical license, bull-dances, 38 drinking, laughter,
At the cider-mill tasting the sweets of the brown mash, suckingthe juice through a straw,
At apple-peelings wanting kisses for all the red fruit I find,
At musters, 39 beach-parties, friendly bees, 40 huskings, house-raisings；
Where the mocking-bird sounds his delicious gurgles, cackles, screams, weeps,
Where the hay-rick stands in the barn-yard, where the dry-stalks are scatter'd, where the brood-cow waits in the hovel,
Where the bull advances to do his masculine work, where thestud to the mare, where the cock is treading the hen,
Where the heifers browse, where geese nip their food with shortjerks,
Where sun-down shadows lengthen over the limitless and lone-some prairie,
Where herds of buffalo make a crawling spread of the squaremiles far and near,
Where the humming-bird shimmers, where the neck of the long-lived swan is curving and winding,
Where the laughing-gull scoots by the shore, where she laughsher near-human laugh,
Where bee-hives range on a gray bench in the garden half hidby the high weeds,
Where band-neck'd partridges roost in a ring on the groundwith their heads out,
Where burial coaches enter the arch'd gates of a cemetery,
Where winter wolves bark amid wastes of snow and icicled trees,
Where the yellow-crown'd heron comes to the edge of themarsh at night and feeds upon small crabs,
Where the splash of swimmers and divers cools the warm noon,
Where the katy-did works her chromatic reed on the walnut-tree over the well,
Through patches of citrons and cucumbers with silver-wiredleaves,
Through the salt-lick or orange glade, or under conical firs,
Through the gymnasium, throughthe curtain'd saloon, throughthe office or public hall；
Pleas'd with the native and pleas'd with the foreign, pleas'dwith the new and old,
Pleas'd with the homely woman as well as the handsome,
Pleas'd with the quakeress as she puts off her bonnet and talksmelodiously,
Pleas'd with the tune of the choir of the whitewash'd church,
Pleas'd with the earnest words of the sweating Methodistpreacher, impress'd seriously at the camp-meeting；
Looking in at the shop-windows of Broadway the whole fore-noon, flatting the flesh of my nose on the thick plate-glass,
Wandering the same atternoon with my face turn'd up to theclouds, or down a lane or along the beach,
My right and left arms round the sides of two friends, and Iin the middle；
Coming home with the silent and dark-cheek'd bush-boy, （be-hind me he rides at the drape of the day, ）
Far from the settlements studying the print of animals' feet, or the moccasin print,
By the cot in the hospital reaching lemonade to a feverishpatient,
Nigh the coffin'd corpse when all is still, examining with acandle；
Voyaging to every port to dicker and adventure,
Hurrying with the modern crowd as eager and fickle as any,
Hot toward one I hate, ready in my madness to knife him,
Solitary at midnight in my back yard, my thoughts gone fromme a long while,
Walking the old hills of Judaea with the beautiful gentle Godby my side,
Speeding through space, speeding through heaven and the stars,
Speeding amid the seven satellites41 and the broad ring, andthe diameter of eighty thousand miles,
Speeding with tail'd meteors, throwing fire-balls like the rest,
Carrying the crescent child that carries its own full mother inits belly,
Storming, enjoying, planning, loving, cautioning,
Backing and filling, appearing and disappearing,
I tread day and night such roads．
I visit the orchards of spheres and look at the product,
And look at quintillions ripen'd and look at quintillions en．
I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul,
My course runs below the soundings of plummets．
I help myself to material and immaterial,
No guard can shut me off, no law prevent me．
I anchor my ship for a little while only,
My messengers continually cruise away or bring their returnsto me．
I go hunting polar furs and the seal, leaping chasms with apike-pointed staff, clinging to topples of brittle and blue．
I ascend to the foretruck, 42
I take my place late at night in the crow's-nest,
We sail the arctic sea, it is plenty light enough,
Through the clear atmosphere I stretch around on the wonder-ful beauty,
The enormous masses of ice pass me and I pass them, thescenery is plain in all directions,
The white-topt mountains show in the distance, I fling out myfancies toward them,
We are approaching some at battle-field in which we aresoon to be engaged,
We pass the colossal outposts of the encampment, we pass withstill feet and caution,
Or we areentering by the suburbs some vast and ruin'd city,
The blocks and fallen architecture more than all the living citiesof the globe．
I am a free companion, I bivouac by invading watchfires,
I turn the bridegroom out of bed and stay with the bride my
上一页 [1] [2] [3] [4] 下一页
-self,
I tighten her all night to my thighs and lips．
My voice is the wife's voice, the screech by the rail of thestairs,
They fetch my man's body up dripping and drown'd．
I understand the large hearts of heroes,
The courage of present times and all times,
How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless wreck of thesteamship, and Death chasing it up and down the storm,
How he knuckled tight and gave not back an inch, and wasfaithful of days and faithful of nights,
And chalk'd inlargeletters ona board, Be of goodcheer, wewill not desert you；
How he follow'd with them and tack'd with them three daysand would not give it up,
How he saved the drifting company at last,
How the lank loose-gown'd women look'd when boated fromthe side of their prepared graves,
How the silent old-faced infants and the lifted sick, and thesharp-lipp'd unshaved men；
All this I swallow, it tastes good, I like it well, it omesmine,
I am the man, I suffer'd, I was there．
The disdain and calmness of martyrs,
The mother of old, condemn'd for a witch, burnt with drywood her children gazing on,
The hounded slave that flags in the race, leans by the fence, blowing, cover'd with sweat,
The twinges that sting like needles his legs and neck, the mur-derous buckshot and the bullets,
All these I feel or am．
I am the hounded slave, I wince at the bite of thedogs,
Hell and despair are upon me, crack and again crack the marks-men,
I clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs, thinn'd with theooze of my skin,
I fall on the weeds and stones,
The riders spur their unwilling horses, haul close,
Taunt my dizzy ears and beat me violently over the head withwhipstocks．
Agonies are one of my changes of garments,
I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself be-come the wounded person,
My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe．
I am the mash'd fireman with breast-bone broken,
Tumbling walls buried me in their debris,
Heat and smoke I inspired, I heard the yelling shouts of mycomrades,
I heard the distant click of their picks and shovels,
They have clear'd the beams away, they tenderly lift me forth．
I lie in the night air in my red shirt, the pervading hush isfor my sake,
Painless after all I lie exhausted but not so unhappy,
White and beautiful are the faces around me, the heads arebared of their fire-caps,
The kneeling crowd fades with the light of the torches．
Distant and dead resuscitate,
They show as the dial or move as the hands of me, I am theclock myself．
I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort's bombardment,
I am there again．
Again the long roll of the drummers,
Again the attacking cannon, mortars,
Again to my listening ears the cannon responsive．
I take part, I see and hear the whole,
The cries, curses, roar, the plaudits of well-aim'd shots,
The ambulanza slowly passing trailing its red drip,
Workmen searching after damages, making indispensable repairs,
The fall of nades through the rent roof, the fan-shaped ex-plosion,
The whizz of limbs, heads, stone, wood, iron, high in the air．
Again gurgles the mouth of my dying general, he furiouslywaves with his hand,
He gasps through the clot Mind not me-mind-the entrench-ments．
48
I have said that the soul is not more than the body,
And I have said that the body is not more than the soul,
And nothing not God, is ater to one than one's self is,
And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to hisown funeral drest in his shroud,
And I or you pocketless of a dime may purchase the pick ofthe earth,
And to lance with an eye or show a bean in its pod con-founds the learning of all times,
And there is no trade or employment but the young man fol-lowing it may ome a hero,
And there is no object so soft but it makes a hub for thewheel'd universc,
And I say to any man or woman, Let your soul stand cool andcomposed before a million universes．
And I say to mankind, Be not curious about God,
For I who am curious about each am not curious about God,
（No array of terms can say how much I am at peace aboutGod and about death．）
I hear and behold God in every object, yet understand Godnot in the least,
Nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful thanmyself．
Why should I wish to see God better than this day？
I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four, and eachmoment then,
In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my ownface in the glass,
I find letters from God dropt in the street, and every one issign'd by God's name,
And I leave them where they are, for I know that wheresoe'erI go,
Others will punctually come for ever and ever．
52
The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains ofmy gab and my loitering．
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric yawp43 over the roofs of the world．
The last scud of day44 holds back for me,
It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shad-ow'd wilds,
It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk．
I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies and drift it in lacy jags．
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles．
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood．
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another
I stop somewhere waiting for you．
上一页 [1] [2] [3] [4]
