To Remind us of summer

gogol

Just wanted to post a bit of my good friend Walt. He always reminds me of America the wild. During these cold months of winter, I find he brings the comfort of lazy summer days and the joy of our human bodies.

I celebrate myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

****

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

and the end,
But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.

There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.

Urge and urge and urge,
Always the procreant urge of the world.

Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and

increase, always sex,
Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life.
To elaborate is no avail, learn'd and unlearn'd feel that it is so.

Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well

entretied,braced in the beams,
Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical,
I and this mystery here we stand.

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

soul.

Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen,
Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.

Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age,
Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they

discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.

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

and clean,
Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less

familiar than the rest.

I am satisfied--I see, dance, laugh, sing;
As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side through the

night, and withdraws at the peep of the day with stealthy
tread, Leaving me baskets covered with white towels swelling the house

with their plenty,
Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream at my

eyes,
That they turn from gazing after and down the road,
And forthwith cipher and show me to a cent,
Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, and which is

ahead?

cassia

thanks for sharing whitman today~~~ahhhh
yes, and that sometimes remind when i read lean and loaf
of Wang Wei....

'oh that i could loaf and laze,
dangling my fish hook here all day'~~

whitman always comes to me in rich fragrances of lilacs, the salt spray of sensuality (the 29th bather)...he was so earthy and inclusive....the ever-expanding Self

he's so celebratory, and physical, grateful and amazed....
it's always good
to revisit~~

phishgod

In many respects, as rich and brilliant today as when first written,
one can always to turn to Walt for some fresh insights and wondeful imagery & songs...it doesn't get much better than that old good stuff, or that good old stuff....,
but then anyone who praises leaves of grass certainly has something to say to me....:)

gogol

Walt is the man. At my time in college I was able to go into our rare books and manuscripts library and check out a first edition Leaves of Grass. Just awesome experience.

EvilToasterElf

I know that Yale supposedly has the most extensive Rare Books and Manuscripts library in the country - where'd you get edumacated Gogol

cassia

so hallowed an experience, the originals "in the flesh" wow

i do so enjoy whitman's sense of vitality and inclusiveness--nothing is left out
all is sacred, essential,
a veritable part of his (our) very own Self

and he expands and grows in grass and music and dewdropping excellent spheres of celebratory Everything~~

one of my favs is

WE TWO, HOW LONG WE WERE FOOL'D

"We two, how long we were fool'd,
Now transmuted, we swiftly escape as Nature escapes,
We are Nature, long have we been absent, but now we return,
We become plants, trunks, foliage, roots, bark,
We are bedded in the ground, we are rocks,
We are oaks, we grow in the openings side by side,
We browse, we are two among the wild herds spontaneous as any,
We are two fishes swimming in the sea together,
We are what locust blossoms are, we drop scent around lanes mornings and evenings,
We are also the coarse smut of beasts, vegetables, minerals,
We are two predatory hawks, we soar above and look down,
We are two resplendent suns, we it is who balance ourselves
orbic and stellar, we are as two comets,
We prowl fang'd and four-footed in the woods, we spring on prey,
We are two clouds forenoons and afternoons driving overhead,
We are seas mingling, we are two of those cheerful waves rolling over each other and interwetting each other,
We are what the atmosphere is, transparent, receptive, pervious,
impervious,
We are snow, rain, cold, darkness, we are each product and influence of the globe,
We have circled and circled till we have arrived home again, we two,
We have voided all but freedom and all but our own joy."

gogol

Originally posted by EvilToasterElf
I know that Yale supposedly has the most extensive Rare Books and Manuscripts library in the country - where'd you get edumacated Gogol

Cornell University.

They rare book library was 5 stories underground and was able to withstand an atomic blast. kinda cool