Leaves of Grass. 1. 1. Elemental drifts! O I wish I could impress others as you and the waves have just been impressing me. 2. As I ebbed with an ebb of the ocean of life, As I wended the shores I know, As I walked where the sea-ripples wash you, Paumanok, Where they rustle up, hoarse and sibilant, Where the fierce old mother endlessly cries for her castaways, I, musing, late in the autumn day, gazing off southward, Alone, held by the eternal self of me that threatens to get the better of me, and stifle me, Was seized by the spirit that trails in the lines underfoot, In the rim, the sediment, that stands for all the water and all the land of the globe. 3. Fascinated, my eyes, reverting from the south, dropped, to follow those slender winrows, Chaff, straw, splinters of wood, weeds, and the sea-gluten, Scum, scales from shining rocks, leaves of salt-lettuce, left by the tide; Miles walking, the sound of breaking waves the other side of me, Paumanok, there and then, as I thought the old thought of likenesses, These you presented to me, you fish-shaped island, As I wended the shores I know, As I walked with that eternal self of me, seeking types. 4. As I wend the shores I know not, As I listen to the dirge, the voices of men and women wrecked, As I inhale the impalpable breezes that set in upon me, As the ocean so mysterious rolls toward me closer and closer, At once I find, the least thing that belongs to me, or that I see or touch, I know not; I, too, but signify, at the utmost, a little washed-up drift, A few sands and dead leaves to gather, Gather, and merge myself as part of the sands and drift. 5. O baffled, balked, Bent to the very earth, here preceding what follows, Oppressed with myself that I have dared to open my mouth, Aware now, that, amid all the blab whose echoes recoil upon me, I have not once had the least idea who or what I am, But that before all my insolent poems the real Me still stands untouched, untold, altogether unreached, Withdrawn far, mocking me with mock-congratulatory signs and bows, With peals of distant ironical laughter at every word I have written or shall write, Striking me with insults till I fall helpless upon the sand. 6. O I perceive I have not understood anything—not a single object—and that no man ever can. 7. I perceive Nature here, in sight of the sea, is taking advantage of me, to dart upon me, and sting me, Because I was assuming so much, And because I have dared to open my mouth to sing at all. 8. You oceans both! You tangible land! Nature! Be not too rough with me—I submit—I close with you, These little shreds shall, indeed, stand for all. 9. You friable shore, with trails of debris! You fish-shaped island! I take what is underfoot; What is yours is mine, my father. 10. I too Paumanok, I too have bubbled up, floated the measureless float, and been washed on your shores; I too am but a trail of drift and debris, I too leave little wrecks upon you, you fish-shaped island. 11. I throw myself upon your breast, my father, I cling to you so that you cannot unloose me, I hold you so firm, till you answer me something. 12.