Leaves of Grass: First and Death-Bed Editions

by Walt Whitman

  I see the table-lands notch’d with ravines, I see the jungles and

  deserts,

  I see the camel, the wild steed, the bustard, the fat-tail’d sheep,

  the antelope, and the burrowing wolf.

  I see the highlands of Abyssinia,

  I see flocks of goats feeding, and see the fig-tree, tamarind, date,

  And see fields of teff-wheat and places of verdure and gold.

  I see the Brazilian vaquero,

  I see the Bolivian ascending mount Sorata,

  I see the Wacho crossing the plains, I see the incomparable rider

  of horses with his lasso on his arm,

  I see over the pampas the pursuit of wild cattle for their hides.

  -8-

  I see the regions of snow and ice,

  I see the sharp-eyed Samoiede and the Finn,

  I see the seal-seeker in his boat poising his lance,

  I see the Siberian on his slight-built sledge drawn by dogs,

  I see the porpoise-hunters, I see the whale-crews of the south

  Pacific and the north Atlantic,

  I see the cliffs, glaciers, torrents, valleys, of Switzerland—I mark

  the long winters and the isolation.

  I see the cities of the earth and make myself at random a part of

  them,

  I am a real Parisian,

  I am a habitan of Vienna, St. Petersburg, Berlin, Constantinople,

  I am of Adelaide, Sidney, Melbourne,

  I am of London, Manchester, Bristol, Edinburgh, Limerick,

  I am of Madrid, Cadiz, Barcelona, Oporto, Lyons, Brussels,

  Berne, Frankfort, Stuttgart, Turin, Florence,

  I belong in Moscow, Cracow, Warsaw, or northward in

  Christiania or Stockholm, or in Siberian Irkutsk, or in some

  street in Iceland,

  I descend upon all those cities, and rise from them again.

  -10 -

  I see vapors exhaling from unexplored countries,

  I see the savage types, the bow and arrow, the poison’d splint, the

  fetich, and the obi.

  I see African and Asiatic towns,

  I see Algiers, Tripoli, Derne, Mogadore, Timbuctoo, Monrovia,

  I see the swarms of Pekin, Canton, Benares, Delhi, Calcutta,

  Tokio,

  I see the Kruman in his hut, and the Dahoman and Ashantee

  man in their huts,

  I see the Turk smoking opium in Aleppo,

  I see the picturesque crowds at the fairs of Khiva and those of

  Herat,

  I see Teheran, I see Muscat and Medina and the intervening

  sands, I see the caravans toiling onward,

  I see Egypt and the Egyptians, I see the pyramids and obelisks,

  I look on chisell’d histories, records of conquering kings,

  dynasties, cut in slabs of sand-stone, or on granite-blocks,

  I see at Memphis mummy-pits containing mummies embalm‘d,

  swathed in linen cloth, lying there many centuries,

  I look on the fall’n Theban, the large-ball’d eyes, the side

  drooping neck, the hands folded across the breast.

  I see all the menials of the earth, laboring,

  I see all the prisoners in the prisons,

  I see the defective human bodies of the earth,

  The blind, the deaf and dumb, idiots, hunchbacks, lunatics,

  The pirates, thieves, betrayers, murderers, slave-makers of the earth,

  The helpless infants, and the helpless old men and women.

  I see male and female everywhere,

  I see the serene brotherhood of philosophs,

  I see the constructiveness of my race,

  I see the results of the perseverance and industry of my race,

  I see ranks, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, I go among them,

  I mix indiscriminately,

  And I salute all the inhabitants of the earth.

  —11—

  You whoever you are!

  You daughter or son of England!

  You of the mighty Slavic tribes and empires! you Russ in Russia!

  You dim-descended, black, divine-soul’d African, large, fine-

  headed, nobly-form‘d, superbly destin’d, on equal terms

  with me!

  You Norwegian! Swede! Dane! Icelander! you Prussian!

  You Spaniard of Spain! you Portuguese!

  You Frenchwoman and Frenchman of France!

  You Belge! you liberty-lover of the Netherlands! (you stock

  whence I myself have descended;)

  You sturdy Austrian! you Lombard! Hun! Bohemian! farmer of

  Styria!

  You neighbor of the Danube!

  You working-man of the Rhine, the Elbe, or the Weser! you

  working-woman too!

  You Sardinian! you Bavarian! Swabian! Saxon! Wallachian!

  Bulgarian!

  You Roman! Neapolitan! you Greek!

  You lithe matador in the arena at Seville!

  You mountaineer living lawlessly on the Taurus or Caucasus!

  You Bokh horse-herd watching your mares and stallions feeding!

  You beautiful-bodied Persian at full speed in the saddle shooting

  arrows to the mark!

  You Chinaman and Chinawoman of China! you Tartar of

  Tartary!

  You women of the earth subordinated at your tasks!

  You Jew journeying in your old age through every risk to stand

  once on Syrian ground!

  You other Jews waiting in all lands for your Messiah!

  You thoughtful Armenian pondering by some stream of the

  Euphrates! you peering amid the ruins of Nineveh! you

  ascending mount Ararat!

  You foot-worn pilgrim welcoming the far-away sparkle of the

  minarets of Mecca!

  You sheiks along the stretch from Suez to Bab-el-mandeb ruling

  your families and tribes!

  You olive-grower tending your fruit on fields of Nazareth,

  Damascus, or Lake Tiberias!

  You Thibet trader on the wide inland or bargaining in the shops

  of Lassa!

  You Japanese man or woman! you liver in Madagascar, Ceylon,

  Sumatra, Borneo!

  All you continentals of Asia, Africa, Europe, Australia, indifferent

  of place!

  All you on the numberless islands of the archipelagoes of the

  sea!

  And you of centuries hence when you listen to me!

  And you each and everywhere whom I specify not, but include

  just the same!

  Health to you! good will to you all, from me and America sent!

  Each of us inevitable,

  Each of us limitless—each of us with his or her right upon the

  earth,

  Each of us allow’d the eternal purports of the earth,

  Each of us here as divinely as any is here.

  -12-

  You Hottentot with clicking palate! you woolly-hair’d hordes!

  You own’d persons dropping sweat-drops or blood-drops!

  You human forms with the fathomless ever-impressive

  countenances of brutes!

  You poor koboo whom the meanest of the rest look down

  upon for all your glimmering language and

  spirituality!

  You dwarf’d Kamtschatkan, Greenlander, Lapp!

  You Austral negro, naked, red, sooty, with protrusive lip,

  groveling, seeking your food!

  You Caffre, Berber, Soudanese!

  You haggard, uncouth, untutor’d Bedowee!

  You plague-swarms in Madras, Nankin, Kaubul, Cairo!

  You benighted roamer of Amazonia! you Patagonian! you

  Feejeeman!

  I do not prefer others so very much before you either,

  I do not say one word against you, away back there where you
>
  stand,

  (You will come forward in due time to my side.)

  -13-

  My spirit has pass’d in compassion and determination around the

  whole earth,

  I have look’d for equals and lovers and found them ready for me

  in all lands,

  I think some divine rapport has equalized me with them.

  You vapors, I think I have risen with you, moved away to distant

  continents, and fallen down there, for reasons,

  I think I have blown with you you winds;

  You waters I have finger’d every shore with you,

  I have run through what any river or strait of the globe has run

  through,

  I have taken my stand on the bases of peninsulas and on the high

  embedded rocks, to cry thence:

  Salut au monde!

  What cities the light or warmth penetrates I penetrate those cities

  myself,

  All islands to which birds wing their way I wing my way myself.

  Toward you all, in America’s name,

  I raise high the perpendicular hand, I make the signal,

  To remain after me in sight forever,

  For all the haunts and homes of men.

  SONG OF THE OPEN ROAD32

  —1—

  Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,

  Healthy, free, the world before me,

  The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

  Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,

  Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,

  Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,

  Strong and content I travel the open road.

  The earth, that is sufficient,

  I do not want the constellations any nearer,

  I know they are very well where they are,

  I know they suffice for those who belong to them,

  (Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,

  I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever

  I go,

  I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them

  I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

  -2-

  You road I enter upon and look around, I believe you are not all

  that is here,

  I believe that much unseen is also here.

  Here the profound lesson of reception, nor preference nor denial,

  The black with his woolly head, the felon, the diseas‘d, the

  illiterate person, are not denied;

  The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar’s

  tramp, the drunkard’s stagger, the laughing party of

  mechanics,

  The escaped youth, the rich person’s carriage, the fop, the

  eloping couple,

  The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of furniture into

  the town, the return back from the town,

  They pass, I also pass, any thing passes, none can be

  interdicted,

  None but are accepted, none but shall be dear to me.

  -3-

  You air that serves me with breath to speak!

  You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them

  shape!

  You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!

  You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides!

  I believe you are latent with unseen existences, you are so dear to

  me.

  You flagg’d walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges!

  You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined

  sides! you distant ships!

  You rows of houses! you window-pierc’d façades! you roofs!

  You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards!

  You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much!

  You doors and ascending steps! you arches!

  You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden

  crossings!

  From all that has touch’d you I believe you have imparted to

  yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me,

  From the living and the dead you have peopled your impassive

  surfaces, and the spirits thereof would be evident and

  amicable with me.

  -4-

  The earth expanding right hand and left hand,

  The picture alive, every part in its best light,

  The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is

  not wanted,

  The cheerful voice of the public road, the gay fresh sentiment of

  the road.

  O highway I travel, do you say to me Do not leave me?

  Do you say Venture not—if you leave me you are lost?

  Do you say I am already prepared, I am well-beaten and undenied,

  adhere to me?

  O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love you,

  You express me better than I can express myself,

  You shall be more to me than my poem.

  I think heroic deeds were all conceiv’d in the open air, and all

  free poems also,

  I think I could stop here myself and do miracles,

  I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever

  beholds me shall like me,

  I think whoever I see must be happy.

  - 5 -

  From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary

  lines,

  Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,

  Listening to others, considering well what they say,

  Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,

  Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds

  that would hold me.

  I inhale great draughts of space,

  The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are

  mine.

  I am larger, better than I thought,

  I did not know I held so much goodness.

  All seems beautiful to me,

  I can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to

  me I would do the same to you,

  I will recruit for myself and you as I go,

  I will scatter myself among men and women as I go,

  I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them,

  Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me,

  Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall

  bless me.

  -6-

  Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear it would not

  amaze me,

  Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear’d it would

  not astonish me.

  Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons,

  It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the

  earth.

  Here a great personal deed has room,

  (Such a deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men,

  Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law and mocks all

  authority and all argument against it.)

  Here is the test of wisdom,

  Wisdom is not finally tested in schools,

  Wisdom cannot be pass’d from one having it to another not

  having it,

  Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof,

  Applies to all stages and objects and qualities and is content,

  Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the

  excellence of things;

  Something there is in the float33 of the sight of things that

  provokes it out of the soul.

  Now I re-examine philosophies and religions,

  They may
prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the

  spacious clouds and along the landscape and flowing currents.

  Here is realization,

  Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he has in him,

  The past, the future, majesty, love—if they are vacant of you, you

  are vacant of them.

  Only the kernel of every object nourishes;

  Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me?

  Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me?

  Here is adhesiveness, it is not previously fashion‘d, it is apropos;

  Do you know what it is as you pass to be loved by strangers?

  Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls?

  —7—

  Here is the efflux of the soul,

  The efflux of the soul comes from within through embower’d

  gates, ever provoking questions,

  These yearnings why are they? these thoughts in the darkness why

  are they?

  Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the

  sunlight expands my blood?

  Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?

  Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious

  thoughts descend upon me?

  (I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees and

  always drop fruit as I pass;)

  What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers?

  What with some driver as I ride on the seat by his side?

  What with some fisherman drawing his seine by the shore as I

  walk by and pause?

  What gives me to be free to a woman’s and man’s goodwill? what

  gives them to be free to mine?

  -8-

  The efflux of the soul is happiness, here is happiness,

  I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times,

  Now it flows unto us, we are rightly charged.

  Here rises the fluid and attaching character,

  The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness

  of man and woman,

  (The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every

  day out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh and

  sweet continually out of itself.)