Whitman, as Printed

‹ Leaves of Grass, 1855

The lines with “I”

I 749 Back to I

  1. p. vi, line 88[…] the past, Rise and walk before me that I may realize you. He learns the lesson . . . . he places himself […]
  2. p. vii, line 21[…] channel of himself. He swears to his art, I will not be meddlesome, I will not have in my […]
  3. p. vii, line 22[…] to his art, I will not be meddlesome, I will not have in my writing any elegance or effect […]
  4. p. vii, line 24[…] way between me and the rest like curtains. I will have nothing hang in the way, not the richest […]
  5. p. vii, line 26[…] in the way, not the richest curtains. What I tell I tell for precisely what it is. Let who may exalt […]
  6. p. vii, line 27[…] may exalt or startle or fascinate or sooth I will have purposes as health or heat or snow has […]
  7. p. vii, line 29[…] has and be as regardless of observation. What I experience or portray shall go from my composition without a […]
  8. p. vii, line 66[…] the soul which says, Rage on, Whirl on, I tread master here and everywhere, Master of the spasms of […]
  9. p. viii, line 89[…] sweet to the taste of the people . . . . when I and you walk abroad upon the earth stung with compassion […]
  10. p. xii, line 29[…] the sea for use to me today here? I know that what answers for me an American must answer […]
  11. p. 13, line 1I CELEBRATE myself,
  12. p. 13, line 2And what I assume you shall assume,
  13. p. 13, line 4I loafe and invite my soul,
  14. p. 13, line 5I lean and loafe at my ease . . . . observing a spear of summer grass.
  15. p. 13, line 7I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it,
  16. p. 13, line 8The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.
  17. p. 13, line 10It is for my mouth forever . . . . I am in love with it,
  18. p. 13, line 11I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,
  19. p. 13, line 12I am mad for it to be in contact with me.
  20. p. 14, line 9I have heard what the talkers were talking . . . . the talk of the beginning and the end,
  21. p. 14, line 10But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.
  22. p. 14, line 22I and this mystery here we stand.
  23. p. 14, line 27Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.
  24. p. 14, line 30I am satisfied . . . . I see, dance, laugh, sing;
  25. p. 15, line 3Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream at my eyes,
  26. p. 15, line 8People I meet . . . . . the effect upon me of my early life . . . . of the ward and city I live in . . . . of the nation,
  27. p. 15, line 11The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love,
  28. p. 15, line 15Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am,
  29. p. 15, line 20Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders,
  30. p. 15, line 21I have no mockings or arguments . . . . I witness and wait.
  31. p. 15, line 22I believe in you my soul . . . . the other I am must not abase itself to you,
  32. p. 15, line 25Not words, not music or rhyme I want . . . . not custom or lecture, not even the best,
  33. p. 15, line 26Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
  34. p. 15, line 27I mind how we lay in June, such a transparent summer morning;
  35. p. 15, line 32And I know that the hand of God is the elderhand of my own,
  36. p. 16, line 1And I know that the spirit of God is the eldest brother of my own,
  37. p. 16, line 8How could I answer the child? . . . . I do not know what it is any more than he.
  38. p. 16, line 9I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
  39. p. 16, line 10Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
  40. p. 16, line 13Or I guess the grass is itself a child . . . . the produced babe of the vegetation.
  41. p. 16, line 14Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
  42. p. 16, line 17Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.
  43. p. 16, line 19Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
  44. p. 16, line 21It may be if I had known them I would have loved them;
  45. p. 16, line 27O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues!
  46. p. 16, line 28And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.
  47. p. 16, line 29I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,
  48. p. 17, line 10I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.
  49. p. 17, line 11I pass death with the dying, and birth with the new-washed babe . . . . and am not contained between my hat and boots,
  50. p. 17, line 14I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth,
  51. p. 17, line 15I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as myself;
  52. p. 17, line 16They do not know how immortal, but I know.
  53. p. 17, line 25I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no,
  54. p. 17, line 28I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand.
  55. p. 17, line 30I peeringly view them from the top.
  56. p. 17, line 32It is so . . . . I witnessed the corpse . . . . there the pistol had fallen.
  57. p. 18, line 14I mind them or the resonance of them . . . . I come again and again.
  58. p. 18, line 19I am there . . . . I help . . . . I came stretched atop of the load,
  59. p. 18, line 20I felt its soft jolts . . . . one leg reclined on the other,
  60. p. 18, line 21I jump from the crossbeams, and seize the clover and timothy,
  61. p. 18, line 23Alone far in the wilds and mountains I hunt,
  62. p. 18, line 29My eyes settle the land . . . . I bend at her prow or shout joyously from the deck.
  63. p. 18, line 31I tucked my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time,
  64. p. 18, line 33I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in the far-west . . . . the bride was a red girl,
  65. p. 19, line 6I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile,
  66. p. 19, line 7Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsey and weak,
  67. p. 19, line 14I had him sit next me at table . . . . my firelock leaned in the corner.
  68. p. 19, line 22Where are you off to, lady? for I see you,
  69. p. 20, line 4I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and breakdown.
  70. p. 20, line 7From the cinder-strewed threshold I follow their movements,
  71. p. 20, line 16I behold the picturesque giant and love him . . . . and I do not stop there,
  72. p. 20, line 17I go with the team also.
  73. p. 20, line 21It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.
  74. p. 20, line 24. . . . I believe in those winged purposes,
  75. p. 21, line 2The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listen closer,
  76. p. 21, line 3I find its purpose and place up there toward the November sky.
  77. p. 21, line 7I see in them and myself the same old law.
  78. p. 21, line 9They scorn the best I can do to relate them.
  79. p. 21, line 10I am enamoured of growing outdoors,
  80. p. 21, line 13I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out.
  81. p. 22, line 1The young fellow drives the express-wagon . . . . I love him though I do not know him;
  82. p. 22, line 31(Miserable! I do not laugh at your oaths nor jeer you,)
  83. p. 23, line 19And these one and all tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them,
  84. p. 23, line 20And such as it is to be of these more or less I am.
  85. p. 23, line 21I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise,
  86. p. 24, line 8I resist anything better than my own diversity,
  87. p. 24, line 12The suns I see and the suns I cannot see are in their place,
  88. p. 24, line 27I play not a march for victors only . . . . I play great marches for conquered and slain persons.
  89. p. 24, line 29I also say it is good to fall . . . . battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.
  90. p. 25, line 1I sound triumphal drums for the dead . . . . I fling through my embouchures the loudest and gayest music to them,
  91. p. 25, line 5It is for the wicked just the same as the righteous . . . . I make appointments with all,
  92. p. 25, line 6I will not have a single person slighted or left away,
  93. p. 25, line 13Do you guess I have some intricate purpose?
  94. p. 25, line 14Well I have . . . . for the April rain has, and the mica on the side of a rock has.
  95. p. 25, line 15Do you take it I would astonish?
  96. p. 25, line 17Do I astonish more than they?
  97. p. 25, line 18This hour I tell things in confidence,
  98. p. 25, line 19I might not tell everybody but I will tell you.
  99. p. 25, line 21How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?
  100. p. 25, line 22What is a man anyhow? What am I? and what are you?
  101. p. 25, line 23All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own,
  102. p. 25, line 25I do not snivel that snivel the world over,
  103. p. 25, line 29I cock my hat as I please indoors or out.
  104. p. 25, line 30Shall I pray? Shall I venerate and be ceremonious?
  105. p. 26, line 1I have pried through the strata and analyzed to a hair,
  106. p. 26, line 3In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barleycorn less,
  107. p. 26, line 4And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.
  108. p. 26, line 5And I know I am solid and sound,
  109. p. 26, line 7All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.
  110. p. 26, line 8And I know I am deathless,
  111. p. 26, line 9I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter's compass,
  112. p. 26, line 10I know I shall not pass like a child's carlacue cut with a burnt stick at night.
  113. p. 26, line 11I know I am august,
  114. p. 26, line 12I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood,
  115. p. 26, line 13I see that the elementary laws never apologize,
  116. p. 26, line 14I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by after all.
  117. p. 26, line 15I exist as I am, that is enough,
  118. p. 26, line 16If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
  119. p. 26, line 17And if each and all be aware I sit content.
  120. p. 26, line 19And whether I come to my own today or in ten thousand or ten million years,
  121. p. 26, line 20I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.
  122. p. 26, line 22I laugh at what you call dissolution,
  123. p. 26, line 23And I know the amplitude of time.
  124. p. 26, line 24I am the poet of the body,
  125. p. 26, line 25And I am the poet of the soul.
  126. p. 26, line 27The first I graft and increase upon myself . . . . the latter I translate into a new tongue.
  127. p. 26, line 28I am the poet of the woman the same as the man,
  128. p. 26, line 29And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man,
  129. p. 26, line 30And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men.
  130. p. 26, line 31I chant a new chant of dilation or pride,
  131. p. 26, line 33I show that size is only developement.
  132. p. 27, line 3I am he that walks with the tender and growing night;
  133. p. 27, line 4I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night.
  134. p. 27, line 16Prodigal! you have given me love! . . . . therefore I to you give love!
  135. p. 27, line 18Thruster holding me tight and that I hold tight!
  136. p. 27, line 20You sea! I resign myself to you also . . . . I guess what you mean,
  137. p. 27, line 21I behold from the beach your crooked inviting fingers,
  138. p. 27, line 22I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me;
  139. p. 27, line 23We must have a turn together . . . . I undress . . . . hurry me out of sight of the land,
  140. p. 27, line 25Dash me with amorous wet . . . . I can repay you.
  141. p. 27, line 30I am integral with you . . . . I too am of one phase and of all phases.
  142. p. 27, line 33I am he attesting sympathy;
  143. p. 27, line 34Shall I make my list of things in the house and skip the house that supports them?
  144. p. 27, line 35I am the poet of commonsense and of the demonstrable and of immortality;
  145. p. 27, line 36And am not the poet of goodness only . . . . I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also.
  146. p. 28, line 3Evil propels me, and reform of evil propels me . . . . I stand indifferent,
  147. p. 28, line 5I moisten the roots of all that has grown.
  148. p. 28, line 8I step up to say that what we do is right and what we affirm is right . . . . and some is only the ore of right,
  149. p. 28, line 26Gentlemen I receive you, and attach and clasp hands with you,
  150. p. 28, line 27The facts are useful and real . . . . they are not my dwelling . . . . I enter by them to an area of the dwelling.
  151. p. 28, line 28I am less the reminder of property or qualities, and more the reminder of life,
  152. p. 29, line 9And whatever I do or say I also return.
  153. p. 29, line 11I speak the password primeval . . . . I give the sign of democracy;
  154. p. 29, line 12By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have their counterpart of on the same terms.
  155. p. 29, line 23Voices of sexes and lusts . . . . voices veiled, and I remove the veil,
  156. p. 29, line 25I do not press my finger across my mouth,
  157. p. 29, line 26I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart,
  158. p. 29, line 28I believe in the flesh and the appetites,
  159. p. 29, line 30Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touched from;
  160. p. 30, line 1If I worship any particular thing it shall be some of the spread of my body;
  161. p. 30, line 16Hands I have taken, face I have kissed, mortal I have ever touched, it shall be you.
  162. p. 30, line 17I dote on myself . . . . there is that lot of me, and all so luscious,
  163. p. 30, line 19I cannot tell how my ankles bend . . . . nor whence the cause of my faintest wish,
  164. p. 30, line 20Nor the cause of the friendship I emit . . . . nor the cause of the friendship I take again.
  165. p. 30, line 21To walk up my stoop is unaccountable . . . . I pause to consider if it really be,
  166. p. 30, line 22That I eat and drink is spectacle enough for the great authors and schools,
  167. p. 30, line 29Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous prongs,
  168. p. 30, line 35If I could not now and always send sunrise out of me.
  169. p. 31, line 4With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of worlds.
  170. p. 31, line 8Come now I will not be tantalized . . . . you conceive too much of articulation.
  171. p. 31, line 12I underlying causes to balance them at last,
  172. p. 31, line 15My final merit I refuse you . . . . I refuse putting from me the best I am.
  173. p. 31, line 17I crowd your noisiest talk by looking toward you.
  174. p. 31, line 19I carry the plenum of proof and every thing else in my face,
  175. p. 31, line 20With the hush of my lips I confound the topmost skeptic.
  176. p. 31, line 21I think I will do nothing for a long time but listen,
  177. p. 31, line 22And accrue what I hear into myself . . . . and let sounds contribute toward me.
  178. p. 31, line 23I hear the bravuras of birds . . . . the bustle of growing wheat . . . . gossip of flames . . . . clack of sticks cooking my meals.
  179. p. 31, line 24I hear the sound of the human voice . . . . a sound I love,
  180. p. 31, line 25I hear all sounds as they are tuned to their uses . . . . sounds of the city and sounds out of the city . . . . sounds of the day and night;
  181. p. 32, line 5I hear the violincello or man's heart's complaint,
  182. p. 32, line 7I hear the chorus . . . . it is a grand-opera . . . . this indeed is music!
  183. p. 32, line 10I hear the trained soprano . . . . she convulses me like the climax of my love-grip;
  184. p. 32, line 14It sails me . . . . I dab with bare feet . . . . they are licked by the indolent waves,
  185. p. 32, line 15I am exposed . . . . cut by bitter and poisoned hail,
  186. p. 32, line 22I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop,
  187. p. 32, line 24I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy,
  188. p. 32, line 25To touch my person to some one else's is about as much as I can stand.
  189. p. 33, line 9I am given up by traitors;
  190. p. 33, line 10I talk wildly . . . . I have lost my wits . . . . I and nobody else am the greatest traitor,
  191. p. 33, line 11I went myself first to the headland . . . . my own hands carried me there.
  192. p. 33, line 30I believe the soggy clods shall become lovers and lamps,
  193. p. 34, line 1I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journeywork of the stars,
  194. p. 34, line 8And I could come every afternoon of my life to look at the farmer's girl boiling her iron tea-kettle and baking shortcake.
  195. p. 34, line 9I find I incorporate gneiss and coal and long-threaded moss and fruits and grains and esculent roots,
  196. p. 34, line 12And call any thing close again when I desire it.
  197. p. 34, line 22I follow quickly . . . . I ascend to the nest in the fissure of the cliff.
  198. p. 34, line 23I think I could turn and live awhile with the animals . . . . they are so placid and self-contained,
  199. p. 34, line 24I stand and look at them sometimes half the day long.
  200. p. 34, line 31So they show their relations to me and I accept them;
  201. p. 34, line 33I do not know where they got those tokens,
  202. p. 34, line 34I must have passed that way untold times ago and negligently dropt them,
  203. p. 35, line 10I but use you a moment and then I resign you stallion . . . . and do not need your paces, and outgallop them,
  204. p. 35, line 11And myself as I stand or sit pass faster than you.
  205. p. 35, line 12Swift wind! Space! My Soul! Now I know it is true what I guessed at;
  206. p. 35, line 13What I guessed when I loafed on the grass,
  207. p. 35, line 14What I guessed while I lay alone in my bed . . . . and again as I walked the beach under the paling stars of the morning.
  208. p. 35, line 15My ties and ballasts leave me . . . . I travel . . . . I sail . . . . my elbows rest in the sea-gaps,
  209. p. 35, line 16I skirt the sierras . . . . my palms cover continents,
  210. p. 35, line 17I am afoot with my vision.
  211. p. 36, line 28At apple-pealings, wanting kisses for all the red fruit I find,
  212. p. 37, line 22My right and left arms round the sides of two friends and I in the middle;
  213. p. 37, line 29Hot toward one I hate, ready in my madness to knife him;
  214. p. 38, line 5I tread day and night such roads.
  215. p. 38, line 6I visit the orchards of God and look at the spheric product,
  216. p. 38, line 8I fly the flight of the fluid and swallowing soul,
  217. p. 38, line 10I help myself to material and immaterial,
  218. p. 38, line 12I anchor my ship for a little while only,
  219. p. 38, line 14I go hunting polar furs and the seal . . . . leaping chasms with a pike-pointed staff . . . . clinging to topples of brittle and blue.
  220. p. 38, line 15I ascend to the foretruck . . . . I take my place late at night in the crow's nest . . . . we sail through the arctic sea . . . . it is plenty light enough,
  221. p. 38, line 16Through the clear atmosphere I stretch around on the wonderful beauty,
  222. p. 38, line 17The enormous masses of ice pass me and I pass them . . . . the scenery is plain in all directions,
  223. p. 38, line 18The white-topped mountains point up in the distance . . . . I fling out my fancies toward them;
  224. p. 38, line 22I am a free companion . . . . I bivouac by invading watchfires.
  225. p. 38, line 23I turn the bridegroom out of bed and stay with the bride myself,
  226. p. 38, line 27I understand the large hearts of heroes,
  227. p. 39, line 7All this I swallow and it tastes good . . . . I like it well, and it becomes mine,
  228. p. 39, line 8I am the man . . . . I suffered . . . . I was there.
  229. p. 39, line 14All these I feel or am.
  230. p. 39, line 15I am the hounded slave . . . . I wince at the bite of the dogs,
  231. p. 39, line 17I clutch the rails of the fence . . . . my gore dribs thinned with the ooze of my skin,
  232. p. 39, line 18I fall on the weeds and stones,
  233. p. 39, line 22I do not ask the wounded person how he feels . . . . I myself become the wounded person,
  234. p. 39, line 23My hurt turns livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.
  235. p. 39, line 24I am the mashed fireman with breastbone broken . . . . tumbling walls buried me in their debris,
  236. p. 39, line 25Heat and smoke I inspired . . . . I heard the yelling shouts of my comrades,
  237. p. 39, line 26I heard the distant click of their picks and shovels;
  238. p. 39, line 28I lie in the night air in my red shirt . . . . the pervading hush is for my sake,
  239. p. 39, line 29Painless after all I lie, exhausted but not so unhappy,
  240. p. 40, line 2They show as the dial or move as the hands of me . . . . and I am the clock myself.
  241. p. 40, line 3I am an old artillerist, and tell of some fort's bombardment . . . . and am there again.
  242. p. 40, line 6I take part . . . . I see and hear the whole,
  243. p. 40, line 14I tell not the fall of Alamo . . . . not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo,
  244. p. 41, line 11Our foe was no skulk in his ship, I tell you,
  245. p. 41, line 23I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little captain,
  246. p. 42, line 32I become as much more as I like.
  247. p. 43, line 1I become any presence or truth of humanity here,
  248. p. 43, line 5It is I let out in the morning and barred at night.
  249. p. 43, line 6Not a mutineer walks handcuffed to the jail, but I am handcuffed to him and walk by his side,
  250. p. 43, line 7I am less the jolly one there, and more the silent one with sweat on my twitching lips.
  251. p. 43, line 8Not a youngster is taken for larceny, but I go up too and am tried and sentenced.
  252. p. 43, line 9Not a cholera patient lies at the last gasp, but I also lie at the last gasp,
  253. p. 43, line 11Askers embody themselves in me, and I am embodied in them,
  254. p. 43, line 12I project my hat and sit shamefaced and beg.
  255. p. 43, line 13I rise extatic through all, and sweep with the true gravitation,
  256. p. 43, line 15Somehow I have been stunned. Stand back!
  257. p. 43, line 17I discover myself on a verge of the usual mistake.
  258. p. 43, line 18That I could forget the mockers and insults!
  259. p. 43, line 19That I could forget the trickling tears and the blows of the bludgeons and hammers!
  260. p. 43, line 20That I could look with a separate look on my own crucifixion and bloody crowning!
  261. p. 43, line 21I remember . . . . I resume the overstaid fraction,
  262. p. 43, line 24I troop forth replenished with supreme power, one of an average unending procession,
  263. p. 44, line 1Eleves I salute you,
  264. p. 44, line 2I see the approach of your numberless gangs . . . . I see you understand yourselves and me,
  265. p. 44, line 5And are aware how I am with you no more than I am with everybody.
  266. p. 44, line 16Flaunt of the sunshine I need not your bask . . . . lie over,
  267. p. 44, line 17You light surfaces only . . . . I force the surfaces and the depths also.
  268. p. 44, line 20Man or woman! I might tell how I like you, but cannot,
  269. p. 44, line 22And might tell the pinings I have . . . . the pulse of my nights and days.
  270. p. 44, line 23Behold I do not give lectures or a little charity,
  271. p. 44, line 24What I give I give out of myself.
  272. p. 44, line 25You there, impotent, loose in the knees, open your scarfed chops till I blow grit within you,
  273. p. 44, line 27I am not to be denied . . . . I compel . . . . I have stores plenty and to spare,
  274. p. 44, line 28And any thing I have I bestow.
  275. p. 45, line 1I do not ask who you are . . . . that is not important to me,
  276. p. 45, line 2You can do nothing and be nothing but what I will infold you.
  277. p. 45, line 3To a drudge of the cottonfields or emptier of privies I lean . . . . on his right cheek I put the family kiss,
  278. p. 45, line 4And in my soul I swear I never will deny him.
  279. p. 45, line 5On women fit for conception I start bigger and nimbler babes,
  280. p. 45, line 6This day I am jetting the stuff of far more arrogant republics.
  281. p. 45, line 7To any one dying . . . . thither I speed and twist the knob of the door,
  282. p. 45, line 10I seize the descending man . . . . I raise him with resistless will.
  283. p. 45, line 13I dilate you with tremendous breath . . . . I buoy you up;
  284. p. 45, line 14Every room of the house do I fill with am armed force . . . . lovers of me, bafflers of graves:
  285. p. 45, line 15Sleep! I and they keep guard all night;
  286. p. 45, line 17I have embraced you, and henceforth possess you to myself,
  287. p. 45, line 18And when you rise in the morning you will find what I tell you is so.
  288. p. 45, line 19I am he bringing help for the sick as they pant on their backs,
  289. p. 45, line 20And for strong upright men I bring yet more needed help.
  290. p. 45, line 21I heard what was said of the universe,
  291. p. 45, line 24Magnifying and applying come I,
  292. p. 46, line 2Accepting the rough deific sketches to fill out better in myself . . . . bestowing them freely on each man and woman I see,
  293. p. 46, line 17The day getting ready for me when I shall do as much good as the best, and be as prodigious,
  294. p. 46, line 18Guessing when I am it will not tickle me much to receive puffs out of pulpit or print;
  295. p. 46, line 26Easily written loosefingered chords! I feel the thrum of their climax and close.
  296. p. 47, line 14This is the city . . . . and I am one of the citizens;
  297. p. 47, line 18They who piddle and patter here in collars and tailed coats . . . . I am aware who they are . . . . and that they are not worms or fleas,
  298. p. 47, line 19I acknowledge the duplicates of myself under all the scrape-lipped and pipe-legged concealments.
  299. p. 47, line 21What I do and say the same waits for them,
  300. p. 47, line 23I know perfectly well my own egotism,
  301. p. 48, line 7I do not despise you priests;
  302. p. 48, line 10Believing I shall come again upon the earth after five thousand years,
  303. p. 48, line 23I turn and talk like a man leaving charges before a journey.
  304. p. 48, line 26I know every one of you, and know the unspoken interrogatories,
  305. p. 48, line 27By experience I know them.
  306. p. 48, line 31I take my place among you as much as among any;
  307. p. 49, line 4I do not know what is untried and afterward,
  308. p. 49, line 5But I know it is sure and alive and sufficient.
  309. p. 49, line 18What is known I strip away . . . . I launch all men and women forward with me into the unknown.
  310. p. 49, line 26I do not call one greater and one smaller,
  311. p. 50, line 1I am sorry for you . . . . they are not murderous or jealous upon me;
  312. p. 50, line 2All has been gentle with me . . . . . . I keep no account with lamentation;
  313. p. 50, line 3What have I to do with lamentation?
  314. p. 50, line 4I am an acme of things accomplished, and I an encloser of things to be.
  315. p. 50, line 7All below duly traveled—and still I mount and mount.
  316. p. 50, line 9Afar down I see the huge first Nothing, the vapor from the nostrils of death,
  317. p. 50, line 10I know I was even there . . . . I waited unseen and always,
  318. p. 50, line 13Long I was hugged close . . . . long and long.
  319. p. 50, line 19Before I was born out of my mother generations guided me,
  320. p. 50, line 24Now I stand on this spot with my soul.
  321. p. 50, line 31Or while I swim in the bath . . . . or drink from the pump at the corner . . . . or the curtain is down at the opera . . . . or I glimpse at a woman's face in the railroad car;
  322. p. 51, line 7I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled systems,
  323. p. 51, line 8And all I see, multiplied as high as I can cipher, edge but the rim of the farther systems.
  324. p. 51, line 15If I and you and the worlds and all beneath or upon their surfaces, and all the palpable life, were this moment reduced back to a pallid float, it would not avail in the long run,
  325. p. 51, line 23I know I have the best of time and space—and that I was never measured, and never will be measured.
  326. p. 51, line 24I tramp a perpetual journey,
  327. p. 51, line 27I have no chair, nor church nor philosophy;
  328. p. 51, line 28I lead no man to a dinner-table or library or exchange,
  329. p. 52, line 1But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll,
  330. p. 52, line 4Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you,
  331. p. 52, line 9Shoulder your duds, and I will mine, and let us hasten forth;
  332. p. 52, line 14This day before dawn I ascended a hill and looked at the crowded heaven,
  333. p. 52, line 15And I said to my spirit, When we become the enfolders of those orbs and the pleasure and knowledge of every thing in them, shall we be filled and satisfied then?
  334. p. 52, line 17You are also asking me questions, and I hear you;
  335. p. 52, line 18I answer that I cannot answer . . . . you must find out for yourself.
  336. p. 52, line 21But as soon as you sleep and renew yourself in sweet clothes I will certainly kiss you with my goodbye kiss and open the gate for your egress hence.
  337. p. 52, line 23Now I wash the gum from your eyes,
  338. p. 52, line 26Now I will you to be a bold swimmer,
  339. p. 52, line 28I am the teacher of athletes,
  340. p. 53, line 1The boy I love, the same becomes a man not through derived power but in his own right,
  341. p. 53, line 7I teach straying from me, yet who can stray from me?
  342. p. 53, line 8I follow you whoever you are from the present hour;
  343. p. 53, line 10I do not say these things for a dollar, or to fill up the time while I wait for a boat;
  344. p. 53, line 11It is you talking just as much as myself . . . . I act as the tongue of you,
  345. p. 53, line 13I swear I will never mention love or death inside a house,
  346. p. 53, line 14And I swear I never will translate myself at all, only to him or her who privately stays with me in the open air.
  347. p. 53, line 23In vessels that sail my words must sail . . . . I go with fishermen and seamen, and love them,
  348. p. 53, line 28They and all would resume what I have told them.
  349. p. 53, line 29I have said that the soul is not more than the body,
  350. p. 53, line 30And I have said that the body is not more than the soul,
  351. p. 54, line 1And I or you pocketless of a dime may purchase the pick of the earth,
  352. p. 54, line 6And I call to mankind, Be not curious about God,
  353. p. 54, line 7For I who am curious about each am not curious about God,
  354. p. 54, line 8No array of terms can say how much I am at peace about God and about death.
  355. p. 54, line 9I hear and behold God in every object, yet I understand God not in the least,
  356. p. 54, line 10Nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful than myself.
  357. p. 54, line 11Why should I wish to see God better than this day?
  358. p. 54, line 12I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four, and each moment then,
  359. p. 54, line 13In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my own face in the glass;
  360. p. 54, line 14I find letters from God dropped in the street, and every one is signed by God's name,
  361. p. 54, line 15And I leave them where they are, for I know that others will punctually come forever and ever.
  362. p. 54, line 18I see the elderhand pressing receiving supporting,
  363. p. 54, line 19I recline by the sills of the exquisite flexible doors . . . . and mark the outlet, and mark the relief and escape.
  364. p. 54, line 20And as to you corpse I think you are good manure, but that does not offend me,
  365. p. 54, line 21I smell the white roses sweetscented and growing,
  366. p. 54, line 22I reach to the leafy lips . . . . I reach to the polished breasts of melons.
  367. p. 54, line 23And as to you life, I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths,
  368. p. 54, line 24No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.
  369. p. 54, line 25I hear you whispering there O stars of heaven,
  370. p. 54, line 26O suns . . . . O grass of graves . . . . O perpetual transfers and promotions . . . . if you do not say anything how can I say anything?
  371. p. 55, line 1I ascend from the moon . . . . I ascend from the night,
  372. p. 55, line 4There is that in me . . . . I do not know what it is . . . . but I know it is in me.
  373. p. 55, line 6I sleep . . . . I sleep long.
  374. p. 55, line 7I do not know it . . . . it is without name . . . . it is a word unsaid,
  375. p. 55, line 9Something it swings on more than the earth I swing on,
  376. p. 55, line 11Perhaps I might tell more . . . . Outlines! I plead for my brothers and sisters.
  377. p. 55, line 14The past and present wilt . . . . I have filled them and emptied them,
  378. p. 55, line 17Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
  379. p. 55, line 18Talk honestly, for no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.
  380. p. 55, line 19Do I contradict myself?
  381. p. 55, line 20Very well then . . . . I contradict myself;
  382. p. 55, line 21I am large . . . . I contain multitudes.
  383. p. 55, line 22I concentrate toward them that are nigh . . . . I wait on the door-slab.
  384. p. 55, line 25Will you speak before I am gone? Will you prove already too late?
  385. p. 55, line 27I too am not a bit tamed . . . . I too am untranslatable,
  386. p. 55, line 28I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
  387. p. 56, line 3I depart as air . . . . I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
  388. p. 56, line 4I effuse my flesh in eddies and drift it in lacy jags.
  389. p. 56, line 5I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
  390. p. 56, line 7You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
  391. p. 56, line 8But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
  392. p. 56, line 12I stop some where waiting for you
  393. p. 57, line 2Push close my lovers and take the best I possess,
  394. p. 57, line 5I was chilled with the cold types and cylinder and wet paper between us.
  395. p. 57, line 6I pass so poorly with paper and types . . . . I must pass with the contact of bodies and souls.
  396. p. 57, line 7I do not thank you for liking me as I am, and liking the touch of me . . . . I know that it is good for you to do so.
  397. p. 57, line 9Were I as the head teacher or charitable proprietor or wise statesman, what would it amount to?
  398. p. 57, line 10Were I to you as the boss employing and paying you, would that satisfy you?
  399. p. 57, line 13Neither a servant nor a master am I,
  400. p. 57, line 14I take no sooner a large price than a small price . . . . I will have my own whoever enjoys me,
  401. p. 57, line 15I will be even with you, and you shall be even with me.
  402. p. 57, line 16If you are a workman or workwoman I stand as nigh as the nighest that works in the same shop,
  403. p. 57, line 17If you bestow gifts on your brother or dearest friend, I demand as good as your brother or dearest friend,
  404. p. 57, line 18If your lover or husband or wife is welcome by day or night, I must be personally as welcome;
  405. p. 58, line 1If you have become degraded or ill, then I will become so for your sake;
  406. p. 58, line 2If you remember your foolish and outlawed deeds, do you think I cannot remember my foolish and outlawed deeds?
  407. p. 58, line 3If you carouse at the table I say I will carouse at the opposite side of the table;
  408. p. 58, line 4If you meet some stranger in the street and love him or her, do I not often meet strangers in the street and love them?
  409. p. 58, line 5If you see a good deal remarkable in me I see just as much remarkable in you.
  410. p. 58, line 10Souls of men and women! it is not you I call unseen, unheard, untouchable and untouching;
  411. p. 58, line 11It is not you I go argue pro and con about, and to settle whether you are alive or no;
  412. p. 58, line 12I own publicly who you are, if nobody else owns . . . . aud see and hear you, and what you give and take;
  413. p. 58, line 14I see not merely that you are polite or whitefaced . . . . married or single . . . . citizens of old states or citizens of new states . . . . eminent in some profession . . . . a lady or gentleman in a parlor . . . . or dressed in the jail uniform . . . . or pulpit uniform,
  414. p. 58, line 17Grown, half-grown, and babe—of this country and every country, indoors and outdoors I see . . . . and all else is behind or through them.
  415. p. 59, line 4All these I see . . . . but nigher and farther the same I see;
  416. p. 59, line 6I bring what you much need, yet always have,
  417. p. 59, line 7I bring not money or amours or dress or eating . . . . but I bring as good;
  418. p. 59, line 19I do not know what it is except that it is grand, and that it is happiness,
  419. p. 60, line 9Will we rate our prudence and business so high? . . . . I have no objection,
  420. p. 60, line 10I rate them as high as the highest . . . . but a child born of a woman and man I rate beyond all rate.
  421. p. 60, line 12I do not say they are not grand and good—for they are,
  422. p. 60, line 13I am this day just as much in love with them as you,
  423. p. 60, line 14But I am eternally in love with you and with all my fellows upon the earth.
  424. p. 60, line 15We consider the bibles and religions divine . . . . I do not say they are not divine,
  425. p. 60, line 16I say they have all grown out of you and may grow out of you still,
  426. p. 60, line 19The sum of all known value and respect I add up in you whoever you are;
  427. p. 62, line 11The paper I write on or you write on . . and every word we write . . and every cross and twirl of the pen . . and the curious way we write what we think . . . . yet very faintly;
  428. p. 63, line 22I do not affirm what you see beyond is futile . . . . I do not advise you to stop,
  429. p. 63, line 23I do not say leadings you thought great are not great,
  430. p. 63, line 24But I say that none lead to greater or sadder or happier than those lead to.
  431. p. 64, line 12I intend to reach them my hand and make as much of them as I do of men and women.
  432. p. 65, line 8To think that you and I did not see feel think nor bear our part,
  433. p. 66, line 7I see one building the house that serves him a few years . . . . or seventy or eighty years at most;
  434. p. 66, line 8I see one building the house that serves him longer than that.
  435. p. 67, line 12These also flow onward to others . . . . you and I flow onward;
  436. p. 67, line 13But in due time you and I shall take less interest in them.
  437. p. 68, line 28I shall go with the rest . . . . we have satisfaction:
  438. p. 69, line 1I have dreamed that we are not to be changed so much . . . . nor the law of us changed;
  439. p. 69, line 2I have dreamed that heroes and good-doers shall be under the present and past law,
  440. p. 69, line 4For I have dreamed that the law they are under now is enough.
  441. p. 69, line 5And I have dreamed that the satisfaction is not so much changed . . . . and that there is no life without satisfaction;
  442. p. 69, line 7I shall go with the rest,
  443. p. 69, line 13Do you suspect death? If I were to suspect death I should die now,
  444. p. 69, line 14Do you think I could walk pleasantly and well-suited toward annihilation?
  445. p. 69, line 15Pleasantly and well-suited I walk,
  446. p. 69, line 16Whither I walk I cannot define, but I know it is good,
  447. p. 69, line 24O my soul! if I realize you I have satisfaction,
  448. p. 69, line 25Animals and vegetables! if I realize you I have satisfaction,
  449. p. 69, line 26Laws of the earth and air! if I realize you I have satisfaction.
  450. p. 69, line 27I cannot define my satisfaction . . yet it is so,
  451. p. 69, line 28I cannot define my life . . yet it is so.
  452. p. 69, line 29I swear I see now that every thing has an eternal soul!
  453. p. 70, line 1I swear I think there is nothing but immortality!
  454. p. 70, line 4I WANDER all night in my vision,
  455. p. 71, line 7I stand with drooping eyes by the worstsuffering and restless,
  456. p. 71, line 8I pass my hands soothingly to and fro a few inches from them;
  457. p. 71, line 11I saw that it was beautiful . . . . and I see that what is not the earth is beautiful.
  458. p. 71, line 12I go from bedside to bedside . . . . I sleep close with the other sleepers, each in turn;
  459. p. 71, line 13I dream in my dream all the dreams of the other dreamers,
  460. p. 71, line 14And I become the other dreamers.
  461. p. 71, line 15I am a dance . . . . Play up there! the fit is whirling me fast.
  462. p. 71, line 16I am the everlaughing . . . . it is new moon and twilight,
  463. p. 71, line 17I see the hiding of douceurs . . . . I see nimble ghosts whichever way I look,
  464. p. 71, line 21I reckon I am their boss, and they make me a pet besides,
  465. p. 71, line 22And surround me, and lead me and run ahead when I walk,
  466. p. 71, line 25I am the actor and the actress . . . . the voter . . the politician,
  467. p. 71, line 29I am she who adorned herself and folded her hair expectantly,
  468. p. 72, line 1I roll myself upon you as upon a bed . . . . I resign myself to the dusk.
  469. p. 72, line 2He whom I call answers me and takes the place of my lover,
  470. p. 72, line 5I feel the hot moisture yet that he left me.
  471. p. 72, line 6My hands are spread forth . . I pass them in all directions,
  472. p. 72, line 7I would sound up the shadowy shore to which you are journeying.
  473. p. 72, line 9I thought my lover had gone . . . . else darkness and he are one,
  474. p. 72, line 10I hear the heart-beat . . . . I follow . . I fade away.
  475. p. 72, line 12O for pity's sake, no one must see me now! . . . . my clothes were stolen while I was abed,
  476. p. 72, line 13Now I am thrust forth, where shall I run?
  477. p. 72, line 14Pier that I saw dimly last night when I looked from the windows,
  478. p. 72, line 15Pier out from the main, let me catch myself with you and stay . . . . I will not chafe you;
  479. p. 72, line 16I feel ashamed to go naked about the world,
  480. p. 72, line 22I descend my western course . . . . my sinews are flaccid,
  481. p. 72, line 23Perfume and youth course through me, and I am their wake.
  482. p. 72, line 25I sit low in a strawbottom chair and carefully darn my grandson's stockings.
  483. p. 72, line 26It is I too . . . . the sleepless widow looking out on the winter midnight,
  484. p. 72, line 27I see the sparkles of starshine on the icy and pallid earth.
  485. p. 72, line 28A shroud I see—and I am the shroud . . . . I wrap a body and lie in the coffin;
  486. p. 73, line 3I see a beautiful gigantic swimmer swimming naked through the eddies of the sea,
  487. p. 73, line 5I see his white body . . . . I see his undaunted eyes;
  488. p. 73, line 6I hate the swift-running eddies that would dash him headforemost on the rocks.
  489. p. 73, line 14I turn but do not extricate myself;
  490. p. 73, line 18I look where the ship helplessly heads end on . . . . I hear the burst as she strikes . . I hear the howls of dismay . . . . they grow fainter and fainter.
  491. p. 73, line 19I cannot aid with my wringing fingers;
  492. p. 73, line 20I can but rush to the surf and let it drench me and freeze upon me.
  493. p. 73, line 21I search with the crowd . . . . not one of the company is washed to us alive;
  494. p. 73, line 22In the morning I help pick up the dead and lay them in rows in a barn.
  495. p. 74, line 4Now I tell what my mother told me today as we sat at dinner together,
  496. p. 74, line 21Now Lucifer was not dead . . . . or if he was I am his sorrowful terrible heir;
  497. p. 74, line 22I have been wronged . . . . I am oppressed . . . . I hate him that oppresses me,
  498. p. 74, line 23I will either destroy him, or he shall release me.
  499. p. 74, line 26How he laughs when I look down the bend after the steamboat that carries away my woman.
  500. p. 74, line 28Warily, sportsman! though I lie so sleepy and sluggish, my tap is death.
  501. p. 74, line 30I am jealous and overwhelmed with friendliness,
  502. p. 75, line 22I swear they are averaged now . . . . one is no better than the other,
  503. p. 75, line 24I swear they are all beautiful,
  504. p. 76, line 27I too pass from the night;
  505. p. 76, line 28I stay awhile away O night, but I return to you again and love you;
  506. p. 77, line 1Why should I be afraid to trust myself to you?
  507. p. 77, line 2I am not afraid . . . . I have been well brought forward by you;
  508. p. 77, line 3I love the rich running day, but I do not desert her in whom I lay so long:
  509. p. 77, line 4I know not how I came of you, and I know not where I go with you . . . . but I know I came well and shall go well.
  510. p. 77, line 5I will stop only a time with the night . . . . and rise betimes.
  511. p. 77, line 6I will duly pass the day O my mother and duly return to you;
  512. p. 77, line 8Not the womb yields the babe in its time more surely than I shall be yielded from you in my time.
  513. p. 77, line 9THE bodies of men and women engirth me, and I engirth them,
  514. p. 77, line 10They will not let me off nor I them till I go with them and respond to them and love them.
  515. p. 78, line 18Suchlike I love . . . . I loosen myself and pass freely . . . . and am at the mother's breast with the little child,
  516. p. 78, line 20I knew a man . . . . he was a common farmer . . . . he was the father of five sons . . . and in them were the fathers of sons . . . and in them were the fathers of sons.
  517. p. 78, line 23These I used to go and visit him to see . . . . He was wise also,
  518. p. 79, line 6I have perceived that to be with those I like is enough,
  519. p. 79, line 10I do not ask any more delight . . . . I swim in it as in a sea.
  520. p. 79, line 16I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor . . . . all falls aside but myself and it,
  521. p. 80, line 5As I see my soul reflected in nature . . . . as I see through a mist one with inexpressible completeness and beauty . . . . see the bent head and arms folded over the breast . . . . the female I see,
  522. p. 80, line 6I see the bearer of the great fruit which is immortality . . . . the good thereof is not tasted by roues, and never can be.
  523. p. 80, line 25I help the auctioneer . . . . the sloven does not half know his business.
  524. p. 83, line 7I see them and complain not and am content with all.
  525. p. 83, line 8Do you suppose I could be content with all if I thought them their own finale?
  526. p. 83, line 13Snakes nest in that mouth . . I hear the sibilant threat.
  527. p. 83, line 29I see your rounded never-erased flow,
  528. p. 83, line 30I see neath the rims of your haggard and mean disguises.
  529. p. 84, line 3I saw the face of the most smeared and slobbering idiot they had at the asylum,
  530. p. 84, line 4And I knew for my consolation what they knew not;
  531. p. 84, line 5I knew of the agents that emptied and broke my brother,
  532. p. 84, line 7And I shall look again in a score or two of ages,
  533. p. 84, line 8And I shall meet the real landlord perfect and unharmed, every inch as good as myself.
  534. p. 84, line 11Out of this face emerge banners and horses . . . . O superb! . . . . I see what is coming,
  535. p. 84, line 12I see the high pioneercaps . . . . I see the staves of runners clearing the way,
  536. p. 84, line 13I hear victorious drums.
  537. p. 84, line 20Off the word I have spoken I except not one . . . . red white or black, all are deific,
  538. p. 84, line 24I read the promise and patiently wait.
  539. p. 84, line 28Stand at my side till I lean as high as I can upon you,
  540. p. 84, line 32Whist! I am fully content.
  541. p. 85, line 4I saw the rich ladies in full dress at the soiree,
  542. p. 85, line 5I heard what the run of poets were saying so long,
  543. p. 85, line 19And I stood before the young man face to face, and took his right hand in my left hand and his left hand in my right hand,
  544. p. 85, line 20And I answered for his brother and for men . . . . and I answered for the poet, and sent these signs.
  545. p. 88, line 28Liberty let others despair of you . . . . I never despair of you.
  546. p. 89, line 4I rose this morning early to get betimes in Boston town;
  547. p. 89, line 5Here's a good place at the corner . . . . I must stand and see the show.
  548. p. 89, line 6I love to look on the stars and stripes . . . . I hope the fifes will play Yankee Doodle.
  549. p. 89, line 26I do not think you belong here anyhow.
  550. p. 89, line 27But there is one thing that belongs here . . . . Shall I tell you what it is, gentlemen of Boston?
  551. p. 89, line 28I will whisper it to the Mayor . . . . he shall send a committee to England,
  552. p. 92, line 8I am of the same style, for I am their friend,
  553. p. 92, line 9I love them quits and quits . . . . I do not halt and make salaams.
  554. p. 92, line 10I lie abstracted and hear beautiful tales of things and the reasons of things,
  555. p. 92, line 11They are so beautiful I nudge myself to listen.
  556. p. 92, line 12I cannot say to any person what I hear . . . . I cannot say it to myself . . . . it is very wonderful.
  557. p. 92, line 14I do not think it was made in six days, nor in ten thousand years, nor ten decillions of years,
  558. p. 92, line 16I do not think seventy years is the time of a man or woman,
  559. p. 92, line 19Is it wonderful that I should be immortal? as every one is immortal,
  560. p. 92, line 20I know it is wonderful . . . . but my eyesight is equally wonderful . . . . and how I was conceived in my mother's womb is equally wonderful,
  561. p. 92, line 21And how I was not palpable once but am now . . . . and was born on the last day of May 1819 . . . . and passed from a babe in the creeping trance of three summers and three winters to articulate and walk . . . . are all equally wonderful.
  562. p. 92, line 22And that I grew six feet high . . . . and that I have become a man thirty-six years old in 1855 . . . . and that I am here anyhow—are all equally wonderful;
  563. p. 92, line 24And that I can think such thoughts as these is just as wonderful,
  564. p. 92, line 25And that I can remind you, and you think them and know them to be true is just as wonderful,
  565. p. 93, line 3Come I should like to hear you tell me what there is in yourself that is not just as wonderful,
  566. p. 93, line 4And I should like to hear the name of anything between Sunday morning and Saturday night that is not just as wonderful.
  567. p. 93, line 5GREAT are the myths . . . . I too delight in them,
  568. p. 93, line 6Great are Adam and Eve . . . . I too look back and accept them;
  569. p. 93, line 8Great is liberty! Great is equality! I am their follower,
  570. p. 93, line 9Helmsmen of nations, choose your craft . . . . where you sail I sail,
  571. p. 93, line 10Yours is the muscle of life or death . . . . yours is the perfect science . . . . in you I have absolute faith.
  572. p. 94, line 16O truth of the earth! O truth of things! I am determined to press the whole way toward you,
  573. p. 94, line 17Sound your voice! I scale mountains or dive in the sea after you.
  574. p. 95, line 12I do not know what it is any more than I know what health is . . . . but I know it is great.
  575. p. 95, line 13Great is wickedness . . . . I find I often admire it just as much as I admire goodness: