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O welcome, ineffable grace of dying days!
10 Alone far in the wilds and mountains I hunt, Wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee, In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night, Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill'd game, Falling asleep on the gather'd leaves with.The well-taken photographs-but your wife or friend close and solid in your arms?His nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him, His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we race around and return.Who has done his day's work?Partaker of influx and efflux I, extoller of hate and conciliation, Extoller of amies and those that sleep in each others' arms.In vain the speeding or shyness, In vain the plutonic rocks send their old heat against my approach, In vain the mastodon retreats beneath its own powder'd bones, In vain objects stand leagues off and assume manifold shapes, In vain the ocean settling in hollows.24 Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son, Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding, No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them, No more modest than immodest.Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And irische Affäre dating it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones, Growing among black folks as among white, Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun, We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the daybreak.And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.Not words of routine this song of mine, But abruptly to question, to leap beyond yet nearer bring; This printed and bound book-but the printer and the printing-office boy?Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders, I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.At eleven o'clock began the burning of the bodies; That is the tale of the murder of the four hundred and twelve young men.42 A call in the midst of the crowd, My own voice, orotund sweeping and final.
4 Trippers and askers surround me, People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the ward and city I live in, or the nation, The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors old and new, My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues.




Root of wash'd sweet-flag!Whimpering and truckling fold with powders for invalids, conformity goes to the fourth-remov'd, I wear my hat as I please indoors or out.48 I have said that the soul is not more than the body, And I have said that the body is not more than the soul, And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's self is, And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy.I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy, To touch my person to some one else's is about as much as I can stand.Will you prove already too late?Come my children, Come my boys and girls, my women, household and intimates, Now the performer launches his nerve, he has pass'd his prelude on the reeds within.37 You laggards there on guard!What are you doing?
Did you fear some scrofula out of the unflagging pregnancy?
35 Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight?



Ever the hard unsunk ground, Ever the eaters and drinkers, ever the upward and downward sun, ever the air and the ceaseless tides, Ever myself and my neighbors, refreshing, wicked, real, Ever the old inexplicable query, ever that thorn'd thumb, that breath of itches and.
How they contort rapid as lightning, with spasms and spouts of blood!
All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

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