Page:Leaves of Grass (1860).djvu/393

Rh Who was to know what should come home to me? Who knows but I am enjoying this? Who knows but I am as good as looking at you now,
 * for all you cannot see me?

It is not you alone, nor I alone, Not a few races, nor a few generations, nor a few
 * centuries,

It is that each came, or comes, or shall come, from its
 * due emission, without fail, either now, or then, or
 * henceforth.

Every thing indicates—the smallest does, and the
 * largest does,

A necessary film envelops all, and envelops the Soul
 * for a proper time.

Now I am curious what sight can ever be more stately
 * and admirable to me than my mast-hemm'd
 * Manhatta,

My river and sun-set, and my scallop-edged waves of
 * flood-tide,

The sea-gulls oscillating their bodies, the hay-boat in
 * the twilight, and the belated lighter;

Curious what Gods can exceed these that clasp me
 * by the hand, and with voices I love call me
 * promptly and loudly by my nighest name as I
 * approach,

Curious what is more subtle than this which ties me
 * to the woman or man that looks in my face,

Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning
 * into you.