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 | Leaves of grass. |  |
2
4 As I wend to the shores I
know not,
As I list to the dirge, the voices of men and women wreck't,
As I inhale the impalpable breezes that set in upon me,
As the ocean so mysterious rolls toward me closer and closer,
I, too, but signify, at the utmost, a little wash'd-up drift,
A few sands and dead leaves to gather,
Gather, and merge myself as part of the sands and drift.
5 O baffled, balk'd, bent to the very earth,
Opprest with myself that I have dared to open my mouth,
Aware now, that, amid all the blab whose echoes re- coil upon me, I have not once had the least idea who or what I am,
But that before all my insolent poems, the real ME stands yet untouch'd, untold, altogether un- reach'd,
Withdrawn far, mocking me with mock-congratu- latory signs and bows,
With peals of distant ironical laughter at every word I have written,
Pointing in silence to all these songs, and then to the sand beneath.
6 Now I perceive I have not understood anything — not a single object — and that no man ever can.
7 I perceive Nature, here
in sight of the sea, is taking
advantage of
me, to dart upon me, and sting
me,
Because I have dared to open my mouth to sing at all.
As I list to the dirge, the voices of men and women wreck't,
As I inhale the impalpable breezes that set in upon me,
As the ocean so mysterious rolls toward me closer and closer,
I, too, but signify, at the utmost, a little wash'd-up drift,
A few sands and dead leaves to gather,
Gather, and merge myself as part of the sands and drift.
5 O baffled, balk'd, bent to the very earth,
Opprest with myself that I have dared to open my mouth,
Aware now, that, amid all the blab whose echoes re- coil upon me, I have not once had the least idea who or what I am,
But that before all my insolent poems, the real ME stands yet untouch'd, untold, altogether un- reach'd,
Withdrawn far, mocking me with mock-congratu- latory signs and bows,
With peals of distant ironical laughter at every word I have written,
Pointing in silence to all these songs, and then to the sand beneath.
6 Now I perceive I have not understood anything — not a single object — and that no man ever can.
333
Because I have dared to open my mouth to sing at all.
| Leaves of grass. | |