 | Leaves of grass (1872) |  |
3
7
O the fireman's joys!I hear the alarm at dead of night,
I hear bells—shouts!—I pass the crowd—I run!
The sight of the flames maddens me with pleasure.
8
O the joy of the strong-brawn'd fighter, towering in the arena, in perfect condition, conscious of power, thirsting to meet his opponent.9
O the joy of that vast elemental sympathy which only the human Soul is capable of generating and emitting in steady and limitless floods. | Leaves of grass (1872) | |