 | Calamus Poems: Leaves of Grass |  |
6.
Not heaving from my ribbed breast only,Not in sighs at night, in rage, dissatisfied with myself,
Not in those lang-drawn, ill-suppressed sighs,
Not in many an oath and promise broken,
Not in my willful and salvage soul's volition,
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Not in this beating and pounding at my temples and wrists,
Not in the curious systole and diastole within, which will one day cease,
Not in many a hungry wish, told to the skies only,
Not in cries, laughter, defiances, thrown from me when alone, far in the wilds,
Not in husky pantings through clenched teeth,
Not in sounded and resounded words—chattering words, echoes, dead words,
Not in the murmers of my dreams while I sleep,
Nor in the limbs and senses of my body, that take you and dismiss you continually—Not there,
Not in any of all of them, O adhesiveness! O pulse of my life!
Need I that you exist and show yourself, any more than in these songs.
| Calamus Poems: Leaves of Grass | |