Wednesday, 14 January 2009

Leaves of Grass Walt Whitman

What chemistry!
That the winds are really not infectious,
That this is no cheat, this transparent green-wash of the sea which is
so amorous after me,
That it is safe to allow it to lick my naked body all over with its
That it will not endanger me with the fevers that have deposited
themselves in it,
That all is clean forever and forever,
That the cool drink from the well tastes so good,
That blackberries are so flavorous and juicy,
That the fruits of the apple-orchard and the orange-orchard, that
melons, grapes, peaches, plums, will none of them poison me,
That when I recline on the grass I do not catch any disease,
Though probably every spear of grass rises out of what was once
catching disease.

Now I am terrified at the Earth, it is that calm and patient,
It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions,
It turns harmless and stainless on its axis, with such endless
successions of diseas'd corpses,
It distills such exquisite winds out of such infused fetor,
It renews with such unwitting looks its prodigal, annual, sumptuous
It gives such divine materials to men, and accepts such leavings from
them at last.

Leaves of Grass Walt Whitman

1 comment:

Kali Star said...

This is such a wonderful blog with so much to explore. I may not live to see Australia. This blog will be the closest I get. But here's someone who really lives in the world and reads one of America's and the World's greatest poet.