WHEN I heard at the close of the day how my name had been receiv’d with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a happy night for me that follow’d; | |
And else, when I carous’d, or when my plans were accomplish’d, still I was not happy; | |
But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health, refresh’d, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn, | |
When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in the morning light, | |
When I wander’d alone over the beach, and undressing, bathed, laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise, |
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And when I thought how my dear friend, my lover, was on his way coming, O then I was happy; | |
O then each breath tasted sweeter—and all that day my food nourish’d me more—and the beautiful day pass’d well, | |
And the next came with equal joy—and with the next, at evening, came my friend; | |
And that night, while all was still, I heard the waters roll slowly continually up the shores, | |
I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands, as directed to me, whispering, to congratulate me, |
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For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the cool night, | |
In the stillness, in the autumn moonbeams, his face was inclined toward me, | |
And his arm lay lightly around my breast—and that night I was happy.
Walt Whitman, Calamus. |
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