 | Leaves of grass (1872) |  |
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America isolated I sing;I say that works made here in the spirit of other lands, are so much poison in The States.
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(How dare such insects as we see assume to write poems for America?For our victorious armies, and the offspring following the armies?)
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Piety and conformity to them that like.Peace, obesity, allegiance, to them that like!
I am he who tauntingly compels men, women, nations,
Crying, Leap from your seats, and contend for your lives!
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I am he who walks the States with a barb'd tongue, questioning every one I meet;Who are you, that wanted only to be told what you knew before?
Who are you, that wanted only a book to join you in your nonsense?
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(With pangs and cries, as thine own, O bearer of many children!These clamors wild, to a race of pride I give.)
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O lands! would you be freer than all that has ever been before?If you would be freer than all that has been before, come listen to me.
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Fear grace—Fear elegance, civilization, delicatesse,Fear the mellow sweet, the sucking of honey-juice;
Beware the advancing mortal ripening of nature,
Beware what precedes the decay of the ruggedness of states and men.
| Leaves of grass (1872) | |