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Leaves of Grass (1881-82)
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RECORDERS AGES HENCE.
Come, I will take you down underneath this impassive exterior, I
will tell you what to say of me,
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Publish my name and hang up my picture as that of the tenderest
lover,
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The friend the lover's portrait, of whom his friend his lover was
fondest,
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Who was not proud of his songs, but of the measureless ocean of
love within him, and freely pour'd it forth,
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Who often walk'd lonesome walks thinking of his dear friends, his
lovers,
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Who pensive away from one he lov'd often lay sleepless and dissat-
isfied at night,
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Who knew too well the sick, sick dread lest the one he lov'd
might secretly be indifferent to him,
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Whose happiest days were far away through fields, in woods, on
hills, he and another wandering hand in hand, they twain
apart from other men,
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Who oft as he saunter'd the streets curv'd with his arm the shoul
der of his friend, while the arm of his friend rested upon
him also.
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