Whitman, Walt, 1819-1892. Leaves of Grass (1872)
Electronic Text Center, University of Virginia Library
|
Table of Contents for this work | | All on-line databases | Etext Center Homepage |
5
(22) I believe in you, my Soul -- the other I am must not
abase itself to you;
And you must not be abased to the other.
(23) Loafe with me on the grass -- loose the stop from
your throat;
Not words, not music or rhyme I want -- not custom or
lecture, not even the best;
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
(24) I mind how once we lay, such a transparent summer
morning;
How you settled your head athwart my hips, and gently
turn'd over upon me,
And parted my shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged
your tongue to my bare-stript heart,
And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you
held my feet.
(25) Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and
knowledge that pass all the argument of the
earth;
And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my
own,
And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my
own;
And that all the men ever born are also my brothers,
and the women my sisters and lovers;
And that a kelson of the creation is love;
And limitless are leaves, stiff or drooping in the fields;
And brown ants in the little wells beneath them;
And mossy scabs of the worm fence, and heap'd stones,
elder, mullen, and poke-weed.
Page 34