Page:Leaves of Grass (1860).djvu/361

Rh The skies of day and night—colors, densities, forms
 * —May-be these are, (as doubtless they are,) only
 * apparitions, and the real something has yet to be
 * known,

(How often they dart out of themselves, as if to confound
 * me and mock me!

How often I think neither I know, nor any man
 * knows, aught of them;)

May-be they only seem to me what they are, (as
 * doubtless they indeed but seem,) as from my
 * present point of view—And might prove, (as of
 * course they would,) naught of what they appear,
 * or naught any how, from entirely changed points
 * of view;

To me, these, and the like of these, are curiously
 * answered by my lovers, my dear friends;

When he whom I love travels with me, or sits a long
 * while holding me by the hand,

When the subtle air, the impalpable, the sense that
 * words and reason hold not, surround us and
 * pervade us,

Then I am charged with untold and untellable wisdom—
 * I am silent—I require nothing further,

I cannot answer the question of appearances, or that
 * of identity beyond the grave,

But I walk or sit indifferent—I am satisfied, He ahold of my hand has completely satisfied me.