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Leaves of Grass (1891-92)
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NOT HEAVING FROM MY RIBB'D BREAST ONLY.
NOT heaving from my ribb'd breast only, |
Not in sighs at night in rage dissatisfied with myself, |
Not in those long-drawn, ill-supprest sighs, |
Not in many an oath and promise broken, |
Not in my wilful and savage soul's volition, |
Not in the subtle nourishment of the air, |
Not in this beating and pounding at my temples and wrists, |
Not in the curious systole and diastole within which will one day
cease,
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Not in many a hungry wish told to the skies only, |
Not in cries, laughter, defiances, thrown from me when alone far
in the wilds,
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Not in husky pantings through clinch'd teeth, |
Not in sounded and resounded words, chattering words, echoes,
dead words,
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Not in the murmurs of my dreams while I sleep, |
Nor the other murmurs of these incredible dreams of every day, |
Nor in the limbs and senses of my body that take you and dismiss
you continually—not there,
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Not in any or all of them O adhesiveness! O pulse of my life! |
Need I that you exist and show yourself any more than in these
songs.
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