[LONG I THOUGHT THAT KNOWLEDGE]
Long I thought that knowledge alone would suffice me — O ifI could but obtain knowledge!
Then my lands engrossed me — Lands of the prairies, Ohio's
land, the southern savannas, engrossed me — For them I
would live — I would be their orator;
Then I met the examples of old and new heroes — I heard of
warriors, sailors, and all dauntless persons — And it
seemed to me that I too had it in me to be as dauntless
as any — and would be so;
And then, to enclose all, it came to me to strike up the songs
of the New World — And then I believed my life must be
spent in singing;
But now take notice, land of the prairies, land of the south
savannas, Ohio's land,
Take notice, you Kanuck woods — and you Lake Huron — and
all that with you roll toward Niagara — and you
Niagara also,
And you, Californian mountains — That you each and all find
somebody else to be your singer of songs,
For I can be your singer of songs no longer — One who loves
me is jealous of me, and withdraws me from all but love,
With the rest I dispense — I sever from what I thought would
suffice me, for it does not — it is now empty and tasteless
to me,
I heed knowledge, and the grandeur of The States, and the
example of heroes, no more,
I am indifferent to my own songs — I will go with him I love,
It is to be enough for us that we are together — We never
separate again.
1860
[HOURS CONTINUING LONG, SORE AND HEAVY-HEARTED]
Hours continuing long, sore and heavy-hearted,
Hours of the dusk, when I withdraw to a lonesome and
unfrequented
spot, seating myself, leaning my face in my
hands;
Hours sleepless, deep in the night, when I go forth,
speeding
swiftly the country roads, or through the city streets, or
pacing miles and miles, stifling plaintive
cries;
Hours discouraged, distracted — for the one I cannot content
myself without, soon I saw him content
himself without
me;
Hours when I am forgotten, (O weeks and months are
passing, but I believe I am
never to forget!)
Sullen and suffering hours! (I am ashamed — but it is useless —
I am what I am;)
Hours
of my torment — I wonder if other men ever have the
like, out of the like feelings?
Is there even one other like me — distracted — his friend, his
lover, lost to him?
Is he too as I am now?
Does he still rise in the morning,
dejected, thinking who is lost to him? and at night,
awaking, think who is
lost?
Does he too harbor his friendship silent and endless? harbor
his anguish and passion?
Does some
stray reminder, or the casual mention of a name,
bring the fit back upon him, taciturn and deprest?
Does
he see himself reflected in me? In these hours, does he
see the face of his hours reflected?
1860
[Who is now reading this?]
Who is now reading this?
May-be one is now reading this who knows some wrongdoing
of my past life,
Or may-be a stranger is
reading this who has secretly loved me,
Or may-be one who meets all my grand assumptions and
egotisms
with derision,
Or may-be one who is puzzled at me.
As if I were not puzzled at myself!
Or as if I never deride myself! (O conscience-struck! O self-
convicted!)
Or
as if I do not secretly love strangers! (O tenderly, a long
time, and never avow it;)
Or as if I did not see,
perfectly well, interior in myself, the
stuff of wrong-doing,
Or as if it could cease transpiring from me until it
must cease.
1860
To you
Let us twain walk aside from the rest;
Now we are together privately, do you discard ceremony,
Come!
vouchsafe to me what has yet been vouchsafed to
none — Tell me the whole story,
Tell me what you
would not tell your brother, wife, husband,
or physician.
1860
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