University of Virginia Library

133   Walt Whitman am I, of mighty Manhattan the son,
Turbulent, fleshy and sensual, eating, drinking and      breeding;
No sentimentalist — no stander above men and women,      or apart from them;
No more modest than immodest.
134   Unscrew the locks from the doors!
Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!
135  Whoever degrades another degrades me;
And whatever is done or said returns at last to me.
136  Through me the afflatus surging and surging —      through me the current and index.
137  I speak the pass-word primeval — I give the sign of      democracy;
By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have      their counterpart of on the same terms.
138  Through me many long dumb voices;
Voices of the interminable generations of slaves;
Voices of prostitutes, and of deform'd persons;
Voices of the diseas'd and despairing, and of thieves      and dwarfs;
Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion,
And of the threads that connect the stars — and of      wombs, and of the fatherstuff,
And of the rights of them the others are down upon;
Of the trivial, flat, foolish, despised,
Fog in the air, beetles rolling balls of dung.
139  Through me forbidden voices;
Voices of sexes and lusts — voices veil'd, and I remove      the veil;
Voices indecent, by me clarified and transfigur'd.
140  I do not press my fingers across my mouth;
I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the      head and heart;
Copulation is no more rank to me than death is.
141  I believe in the flesh and the appetites;
Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part      and tag of me is a miracle.
142   Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy what-     ever I touch or am touch'd from;
The scent of these arm-pits, aroma finer than prayer;
This head more than churches, bibles, and all the      creeds.
143  If I worship one thing more than another, it shall      be the spread of my own body, or any part of it.
144  Translucent mould of me, it shall be you!
Shaded ledges and rests, it shall be you!
Firm masculine colter, it shall be you.
145  Whatever goes to the tilth of me, it shall be you!
You my rich blood! Your milky stream, pale strip-     pings of my life.
146  Breast that presses against other breasts, it shall be      you!
My brain, it shall be your occult convolutions.
147  Root of wash't sweet-flag! timorous pond-snipe!      nest of guarded duplicate eggs! it shall be you!
Mix't tussled hay of head, beard, brawn, it shall be      you!
Trickling sap of maple! fibre of manly wheat! it shall      be you!
148  Sun so generous, it shall be you!
Vapors lighting and shading my face, it shall be you!
You sweaty brooks and dews, it shall be you!
Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me, it      shall be you!
Broad, muscular fields! branches of live oak! lov-     ing lounger in my winding paths! it shall be      you!
Hands I have taken — face I have kiss'd — mortal I      have ever touch'd! it shall be you.
149   I dote on myself — there is that lot of me, and all so      luscious;
Each moment, and whatever happens, thrills me with      joy.
150  O I am wonderful!
I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause      of my faintest wish;
Nor the cause of the friendship I emit, nor the cause      of the friendship I take again.
151  That I walk up my stoop! I pause to consider if it      really be;
A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than      the metaphysics of books.
152  To behold the day-break!
The little light fades the immense and diaphanous      shadows;
The air tastes good to my palate.
153  Hefts of the moving world, at innocent gambols      silently rising, freshly exuding,
Scooting obliquely high and low.
154  Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous      prongs;
Seas of bright juice suffuse heaven.
155  The earth by the sky staid with — the daily close of      their junction;
The heav'd challenge from the east that moment over      my head;
The mocking taunt, See then whether you shall be      master!