Page:Leaves of Grass (1860).djvu/284

276 Now in a moment I know what I am for—I awake, And already a thousand singers—a thousand songs,
 * clearer, louder, more sorrowful than yours,

A thousand warbling echoes have started to life
 * within me,

Never to die.

O throes! O you demon, singing by yourself—projecting me, O solitary me, listening—never more shall I cease
 * imitating, perpetuating you,

Never more shall I escape, Never more shall 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 dusky demon aroused—the fire, the sweet hell
 * within,

The unknown want, the destiny of me.

O give me some clew! O if I am to have so much, let me have more! O a word! O what is my destination? O I fear it is henceforth chaos! O how joys, dreads, convolutions, human shapes, and
 * all shapes, spring as from graves around me!

O phantoms! you cover all the land, and all the sea! O I cannot see in the dimness whether you smile or
 * frown upon me;

O vapor, a look, a word! O well-beloved! O you dear women's and men's phantoms!