Walt Whitman

LEAVES OF GRASS
(1891-92 issue)
complete book, e-book

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Spontaneous Me

 Spontaneous me, Nature,
 The loving day, the mounting sun, the friend I am happy with,
 The arm of my friend hanging idly over my shoulder,
 The hillside whiten'd with blossoms of the mountain ash,
 The same late in autumn, the hues of red, yellow, drab, purple, and
 light and dark green,
 The rich coverlet of the grass, animals and birds, the private
 untrimm'd bank, the primitive apples, the pebble-stones,
 Beautiful dripping fragments, the negligent list of one after
 another as I happen to call them to me or think of them,
 The real poems, (what we call poems being merely pictures,)
 The poems of the privacy of the night, and of men like me,
 This poem drooping shy and unseen that I always carry, and that all
 men carry,
 (Know once for all, avow'd on purpose, wherever are men like me, are
 our lusty lurking masculine poems,)
 Love-thoughts, love-juice, love-odor, love-yielding, love-climbers,
 and the climbing sap,
 Arms and hands of love, lips of love, phallic thumb of love, breasts
 of love, bellies press'd and glued together with love,
 Earth of chaste love, life that is only life after love,
 The body of my love, the body of the woman I love, the body of the
 man, the body of the earth,
 Soft forenoon airs that blow from the south-west,
 The hairy wild-bee that murmurs and hankers up and down, that gripes the
 full-grown lady-flower, curves upon her with amorous firm legs, takes
 his will of her, and holds himself tremulous and tight till he is
 satisfied;
 The wet of woods through the early hours,
 Two sleepers at night lying close together as they sleep, one with
 an arm slanting down across and below the waist of the other,
 The smell of apples, aromas from crush'd sage-plant, mint, birch-bark,
 The boy's longings, the glow and pressure as he confides to me what
 he was dreaming,
 The dead leaf whirling its spiral whirl and falling still and
 (...)
(......)