My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs, I am mad for it to be in contact with me.Įchoes, ripples, buzz’d whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, : It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it. I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it, Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with perfumes, Nature without check with original energy. I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,īorn here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
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