Verse > Walt Whitman > Leaves of Grass
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Walt Whitman (1819–1892).  Leaves of Grass.  1900.

48. Trickle, Drops


TRICKLE, drops! my blue veins leaving! 
O drops of me! trickle, slow drops, 
Candid, from me falling—drip, bleeding drops, 
From wounds made to free you whence you were prison’d, 
From my face—from my forehead and lips,         5
From my breast—from within where I was conceal’d—press forth, red drops—confession drops; 
Stain every page—stain every song I sing, every word I say, bloody drops; 
Let them know your scarlet heat—let them glisten; 
Saturate them with yourself, all ashamed and wet; 
Glow upon all I have written, or shall write, bleeding drops;  10
Let it all be seen in your light, blushing drops. 


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