uncivilized women, they seemed at once tender of heart and tough of constitution; equally ready to die for their infants or fight for them.

like a doe in the shade of a woodland rock. Sprawling at her lapped breasts, was her wide-awake fawn, stark naked, its black little body half lifted from the deck, crosswise with its dam’s; its hands, like two paws, clambering upon her; its mouth and nose ineffectually rooting to get at the mark; and meantime giving a vexatious half-grunt, blending with the composed snore of the negress.

Don Benito’s confessed ill opinion of his crew

His hand, black with continually thrusting it into the tar-pot

suddenly he thought that one or two of them returned the glance and with a sort of meaning. He rubbed his eyes, and looked again; but again seemed to see the same thing

They were tranquilizing

But if that story was not true, what was the truth?

he began to feel a ghostly dread of Don Benito.

as if hiding something.

I have trust in Babo

The Spaniard, still with a guilty shuffle, repeated his question:

May I ask how many men have you, Señor?”

“And there, Señor, you exchanged your sealskins for teas and silks, I think you said?”

fangs

a coil of rope in his hand

The slave there carries the padlock, but master here carries the key.”

a black man’s slave was Babo, who now is the white’s.”

Here he paused; his hand to his head, as if there were a swimming there, or a sudden bewilderment of memory had come over him; but meeting his servant’s kindly glance seemed reassured, and proceeded:–

_pardon_

The black

An iron collar was about his neck, from which depended a chain, thrice wound round his body; the terminating links padlocked together at a broad band of iron, his girdle.

It was then I vowed never to have for fellow-voyager a man I loved, unless, unbeknown to him

Again quivering, the Spaniard paused.

late friend

shepherds to your flock of black sheep?”

I know no sadder sight than a commander who has little of command but the name

scanty

scanty

carrying off numbers of the whites and blacks.

His cough returned and with increased violence; this subsiding; with reddened lips

mata

somnambulist

What the San Dominick wanted was, what the emigrant ship has, stern superior officers. But on these decks not so much as a fourth-mate was to be seen.

The San Dominick was in the condition of a transatlantic emigrant ship

Wonted

nvoluntary victim of mental disorder

Marking the noisy indocility of the blacks in general

His mind appeared unstrung, if not still more seriously affected.

freedom in their native tongue.

American

unsophisticated Africans.

elevated poop

elderly grizzled negroes, their heads like black, doddered willow tops

scurvy

hearse-like roll of the hull.

Whether the ship had a figure-head

somnambulistic

However, no guns were seen.

Acapulco

white-washed monastery

and, at the least, pilot her in

apors partly mantling the hull

observing that, the ship, in navigating into the harbor, was drawing too near the land; a sunken reef making out off her bow.

the stranger, viewed through the glass, showed no colors

strange sail

uninhabited island

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, Missing me one place search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love

Do I contradict myself

I sleep — I sleep long

Corpse

Nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful than myself.

My words itch at your ears till you understand them

Wonderful cities and free nations we shall fetch as we go

Noiselessly passing handfuls out of their hearts and giving them to be mine

My lovers suffocate me

I know perfectly well my own egotism

I am one of the citizens

By my life-lumps

Man or woman, I might tell how I like you, but cannot

The friendly and flowing savage

my own crucifixion

The hiss of the surgeon’s knife, the gnawing teeth of his saw, Wheeze, cluck, swash of falling blood, short wild scream, and long, dull, tapering groan

Formless stacks of bodies and bodies by themselves, dabs of flesh upon the masts and spars

is the tale of the murder of the four hundred and twelve young men.

White and beautiful are the faces around me

I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person

I tighten her all night to my thighs and lips

Hot toward one I hate, ready in my madness to knife him

Where the bull advances to do his masculine work

Even as I stand or sit passing faster than you

They bring me tokens of myself

And am stucco’d with quadruped

Logic and sermons never convince

Landscapes projected masculine

quivering

quahaug

lick’d by the indolent waves,

Encompass worlds, but never try to encompass me

mortal I have ever touch’d, it shall be you.

You my rich blood! your milky stream pale strippings of my life!

kosmos

scrofula

Dash me with amorous wet

I am the poet of the woman the same as the man

I exist as I am, that is enough

deathless,

conformity goes to the fourth-remov’d, I wear my hat as I please indoors or out.

touch of my lips to yours

There shall be no difference between them and the rest.

These are really the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me

(The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place, The bright suns I see and the dark suns I cannot see are in their place, The palpable is in its place and the impalpable is in its place.)

(The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place, The bright suns I see and the dark suns I cannot see are in their place, The palpable is in its place and the impalpable is in its place.)

song of myself.

eyes bent sideways,

The half-breed

(He will never sleep any more as he did in the cot in his mother’s bedroom;)

I see in them and myself the same old law

Ya-honk

and perfect limbs.

environ

their white bellies bulge

Little streams pass’d all over their bodies.

Which of the young men does she like the best? Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.

coarse straight locks descended upon her voluptuous limbs and reach’d to her feet.

red girl,

Alone far in the wilds and mountains I hunt, Wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee, In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night, Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill’d game, Falling asleep on the gather’d leaves with my dog and gun by my side.

I note where the

be shaken away.

me mine male and female,

forward life

babe of the vegetation.

I do not know what it is any more than he.

God

you

your valved voice.

I have no mockings or arguments

But they are not the Me myself.

I am satisfied — I see, dance, laugh, sing;

Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean,

Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.

To elaborate is no avail,

I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end,

millions of suns left,)

origin of all poems,

Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth much? Have you practis’d so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with perfumes,

My tongue, every atom of my blood

For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

Song of Myself

Nothing can bring you peace but the triumph of principles.

her

The Democrats from New Hampshire!

And so the reliance on Property, including the reliance on governments which protect it, is the want of self-reliance.

Columbus found the New World

For every Stoic was a Stoic; but in Christendom where is the Christian?

Society never advances. It recedes as fast on one side as it gains on the other. It undergoes continual changes; it is barbarous, it is civilized, it is christianized, it is rich, it is scientific; but this change is not amelioration. For every thing that is given, something is taken

Shakspeare will never be made by the study of Shakspeare

Our minds travel when our bodies are forced to stay at home.

In manly hours

aliens

as a girl

Swedenborgism

self-reliance

The prayer of the farmer kneeling in his field to weed it

themselves!

revolution

our young men

women

and afraid of each other.

society, he will see the need of these ethics.

godlike in him

antinomianism

I will seek my own

I must be myself. I cannot break myself any longer for you, or you. If you can love me for what I am, we shall be the happier. If you cannot, I will still seek to deserve that you should. I will not hide my tastes or aversions.

and wake Thor and Woden

All men have my blood, and I have all men’s.

But now we are a mob

ever-blessed ONE.

Who has more obedience than I masters me, though he should not raise his finger

Truth and Right

And now at last the highest truth

He cannot be happy and strong until he too lives with nature in the present, above time.

he dares not say ‘I think,’ ‘I am,’ but quotes some saint or sage.

Is the acorn better than the oak which is its fulness and completion?

It must be that when God speaketh he should communicate, not one thing, but all things; should fill the world with his voice; should scatter forth light, nature, time, souls, from the centre of the present thought; and new date and new create the whole.

If I see a trait, my children will see it after me,

Here are the lungs of that inspiration which giveth man wisdom, and which cannot be denied without impiety and atheism.

The world has been instructed by its kings, who have so magnetized the eyes of nations.

Alfred, and Scanderbeg, and Gustavus

A man Caesar is born, and for ages after we have a Roman Empire.

Every true man is a cause, a country, and an age

a true man belongs to no other time or place, but is the centre of things.

A great man is coming to eat at my house.

America

genuine action

do not see that virtue or vice emit a breath every moment.

resound with the hum of insects

To be great is to be misunderstood.

hobgoblin

It seems to be a rule of wisdom never to rely on your memory alone

Why drag about this corpse of your memory

terror that scares us from self-trust is our consistency;

vulnera- ble

the forced smile which we put on in company where we do not feel at ease in answer to conversation which does not interest us.

chagrins

Their every truth is not quite true.

Do your work, and you shall reinforce yourself.

but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.