“One's-Self I Sing One's-self I sing, a simple separate person, Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse. Of physiology from top to toe I sing, Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy for the Muse, I say the Form complete is worthier far, The Female equally with the Male I sing. Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power, Cheerful, for freest action form'd under the laws divine, The Modern Man I sing.”

“I sing the Equalities, modern or old, I sing the endless finales of things; I say Nature continues—Glory continues;I praise with electric voice; For I do not see one imperfection in the universe; And I do not see one cause or result lamentable at last in the universe. O setting sun! though the time has come, I still warble under you, if none else does, unmitigated adoration.”

“I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,Those of mechanics, each one singing his as itshould be blithe and strong,The carpenter singing his as he measures his plankor beam,The mason singing his as he makes ready for work,or leaves off work,The boatman singing what belongs to him in hisboat, the deckhand singing on the steamboatdeck,The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, thehatter singing as he stands,The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on hisway in the morning, or at noon intermissionor at sundown,The delicious singing of the mother, or of theyoung wife at work, or of the girl sewing orwashing,Each singing what belongs to him or her and tonone else,The day what belongs to the day — at night theparty of young fellows, robust, friendly,Singing with open mouths their strong melodioussongs.”

“I am satisfied ... I see, dance, laugh, sing.”

“A perfect writer would make words sing, dance, kiss, do the male and female act, bear children, weep, bleed, rage, stab, steal, fire cannon, steer ships, sack cities, charge with cavalry or infantry, or do anything that man or woman or the natural powers can do.”

“I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume,For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.”

“Demon or bird! (said the boy’s soul,) Is it indeed toward your mate you sing? or is it mostly to me? For I, that was a child, my tongue’s use sleeping, Now I have heard you, Now in a moment I know what I am for—I awake, 150And already a thousand singers—a thousand songs, clearer, louder and more sorrowful than yours, A thousand warbling echoes have started to life within me, Never to die. O you singer, solitary, singing by yourself—projecting me; O solitary me, listening—nevermore shall I cease perpetuating you; 155Never more shall I escape, never more the reverberations, Never more the cries of unsatisfied love be absent from me, Never again leave me to be the peaceful child I was before what there, in the night, By the sea, under the yellow and sagging moon, The messenger there arous’d—the fire, the sweet hell within, 160The unknown want, the destiny of me.”