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 | Leaves of grass (1872) |  |
2
2
Come forward, O my Soul, and let the rest retire;Listen—lose not—it is toward thee they tend;
Parting the midnight, entering my slumber-chamber,
For thee they sing and dance, O Soul.
18
3
A festival song!The duet of the bridegroom and the bride—a marriage-march,
With lips of love, and hearts of lovers, fill'd to the brim with love;
The red-flush'd cheeks, and perfumes—the cortege swarming, full of friendly faces, young and old,
To flutes' clear notes, and sounding harps' cantabile.
| Leaves of grass (1872) | |