Walt Whitman

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

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7

 Here is the efflux of the soul,
 The efflux of the soul comes from within through embower'd gates,
 ever provoking questions,
 These yearnings why are they? these thoughts in the darkness why are they?
 Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sunlight
 expands my blood?
 Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?
 Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious
 thoughts descend upon me?
 (I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees and always
 drop fruit as I pass;)
 What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers?
 What with some driver as I ride on the seat by his side?
 What with some fisherman drawing his seine by the shore as I walk by
 and pause?
 What gives me to be free to a woman's and man's good-will? what
 gives them to be free to mine?