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One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is myself, And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten million years, I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.Till we find where the sly one hides and bring him forth, Ever love, ever the sobbing liquid of life, Ever the bandage under the chin, ever the trestles of death.I do not know it-it is without name-it is a word unsaid, It is not in any dictionary, utterance, symbol.In the houses the dishes and fare and furniture-but the host and hostess, and the look out of their eyes?I follow you whoever you are from the present hour, My words itch at your ears till you understand them.39 The friendly and flowing savage, who is he?That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be, A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers, Darker than the colorless beards of old men, Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.Easily written loose-finger'd chords-I feel the thrum of your climax and close.My lovers suffocate me, Crowding my lips, thick in the pores of my skin, Jostling me through streets and public halls, coming naked to me at night, Crying by day, Ahoy!
Turn the bed-clothes toward the foot of the bed, Let the physician and the priest go home.And as to you Corpse I think you are good manure, but that does not offend me, I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing, I reach to the leafy lips, I reach to the polish'd breasts of melons.I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women, And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy, By God!How they contort rapid as lightning, with spasms and spouts of blood!