Page:Leaves of Grass (1860).djvu/41

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Leaves of Grass.
33

What living and buried speech is always vibrating
here—what howls restrained by decorum,
Arrests of criminals, slights, adulterous offers made,
acceptances, rejections with convex lips,
I mind them or the show or resonance of them—I
come and I depart.

48.The big doors of the country-barn stand open and
ready,
The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-
drawn wagon,
The clear light plays on the brown gray and green
intertinged,
The armfuls are packed to the sagging mow.

49.I am there—I help—I came stretched atop of the
load,
I felt its soft jolts—one leg reclined on the other;
I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and
timothy,
And roll head over heels, and tangle my hair full of
wisps.

50.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-killed game,
Soundly falling asleep on the gathered leaves, with
my dog and gun by my side.

51.The Yankee clipper is under her three sky-sails—
she cuts the sparkle and scud,