Verse > Walt Whitman > Leaves of Grass

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

47. Not Heat Flames up and Consumes

NOT heat flames up and consumes, 
Not sea-waves hurry in and out, 
Not the air, delicious and dry, the air of the ripe summer, bears lightly along white down-balls of myriads of seeds, 
Wafted, sailing gracefully, to drop where they may; 
Not these—O none of these, more than the flames of me, consuming, burning for his love whom I love!         5
O none, more than I, hurrying in and out: 
—Does the tide hurry, seeking something, and never give up? O I the same; 
O nor down-balls, nor perfumes, nor the high, rain-emitting clouds, are borne through the open air, 
Any more than my Soul is borne through the open air, 
Wafted in all directions, O love, for friendship, for you.  10


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