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Is he waiting for civilization, or past it and mastering it?Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has.21 I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me, The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into new.Be at peace bloody flukes of doubters and sullen mopers, I take my place among you as much as among any, The past is the push of you, me, all, precisely the same, And what is yet untried and afterward is for you, me, all.What is a man anyhow?I but use you a minute, then I resign you, stallion, Why do I need your paces when I myself out-gallop them?Your facts are useful, and yet they are not my dwelling, I but enter by them to an area of my dwelling.8 The little one sleeps in its cradle, I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand.I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth, I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as myself, (They do not know how immortal, but I know.) Every kind for itself and its own, for.Did you fear some scrofula out of the unflagging pregnancy?39 The friendly and flowing savage, who is he?Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.43 I do not despise you priests, all time, the world over, My faith is the greatest of faiths and the least of faiths, Enclosing worship ancient and modern and all between ancient and modern, Believing I shall come again upon the earth after five.
Through me many long dumb voices, Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves, Voices of the diseas'd and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs, Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion, And of the threads that connect the stars, and of wombs and.