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Leaves of Grass (1891-92)
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YOU FELONS ON TRIAL IN COURTS.
YOU felons on trial in courts, |
You convicts in prison-cells, you sentenced assassins chain'd and
handcuff'd with iron,
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Who am I too that I am not on trial or in prison? |
Me ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd
with iron, or my ankles with iron?
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You prostitutes flaunting over the trottoirs or obscene in your
rooms,
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Who am I that I should call you more obscene than myself? |
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O culpable! I acknowledge—I exposé! |
(O admirers, praise not me—compliment not me—you make
me wince,
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I see what you do not—I know what you do not.) |
Inside these breast-bones I lie smutch'd and choked, |
Beneath this face that appears so impassive hell's tides continually
run,
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Lusts and wickedness are acceptable to me, |
I walk with delinquents with passionate love, |
I feel I am of them—I belong to those convicts and prostitutes
myself,
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And henceforth I will not deny them—for how can I deny myself? |
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