 | Leaves of grass (1872) |  |
You Felons on Trial in Courts.
1
You felons on trial in courts;You convicts in prison-cells—you sentenced assassins, chain'd and hand-cuff'd with iron;
Who am I, too, that I am not on trial, or in prison?
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd with iron, or my ankles with iron?
2
You prostitutes flaunting over the trottoirs, or obscene in your rooms,Who am I, that I should call you more obscene than myself?
3
O culpable!I acknowledge—I exposé!
(O admirers! praise not me! compliment not me! you make me wince,
I see what you do not—I know what you do not.)
4
Inside these breast-bones I lie smutch'd and choked;Beneath this face that appears so impassive, hell's tides continually run;
Lusts and wickedness are acceptable to me;
I walk with delinquents with passionate love;
I feel I am of them—I belong to those convicts and prostitutes myself,
And henceforth I will not deny them—for how can I deny myself?
| Leaves of grass (1872) | |