Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Birthday Suite

O my rapt verse, my call, mock me not!
I am Walt Whitman, liberal and lusty as Nature.
The hairy wild-bee that murmurs
and hankers up and down, that gripes
the full-grown lady-flower, curves
upon her with amorous firm legs, takes
his will of her, and holds himself
tremulous and tight till he is satisfied.
O to have life henceforth a poem of new joys!
No dainty rhymes or sentimental love verses for you,
not you as some pale poetling seated
at a desk lisping cadenzas piano,
but as a strong man erect, clothed in blue clothes,
advancing, carrying a rifle on your shoulder.
Let him who is without my poems be assassinated!


[Note: the above lines come from Whitman's “By Blue Ontario’s Shore,” “To a Common Prostitute,” “Spontaneous Me,” “A Song of Joys,” “Eighteen Sixty-One” & “Respondez.”]

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