Page:Leaves of Grass (1860).djvu/322

14.

I am he that aches with love;
Does the earth gravitate? Does not all matter, aching,
attract all matter?
So the body of me to all I meet, or that I know.

15.

Early in the morning,
Walking forth from the bower, refreshed with sleep,
Behold me where I pass—hear my voice—approach,
Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my
body as I pass,
Be not afraid of my body.