 | Leaves of grass (1872) |  |
14
44
Now Lucifer was not dead—or if he was, I am his sorrowful terrible heir;I have been wrong'd—I am oppress'd—I hate him that oppresses me,
I will either destroy him, or he shall release me.
45
Damn him! how he does defile me!How he informs against my brother and sister, and takes pay for their blood!
How he laughs when I look down the bend, after the steamboat that carries away my woman!
46
Now the vast dusk bulk that is the whale's bulk, it seems mine;Warily, sportsman! though I lie so sleepy and sluggish, the tap of my flukes is death.
| Leaves of grass (1872) | |