Page:Leaves of Grass (1860).djvu/75

Rh My ties and ballasts leave me—I travel—I sail—
 * my elbows rest in the sea-gaps,

I skirt the sierras—my palms cover continents, I am afoot with my vision.

By the city's quadrangular houses—in log huts—
 * camping with lumbermen,

Along the ruts of the turnpike—along the dry gulch
 * and rivulet bed,

Weeding my onion-patch, or hoeing rows of carrots
 * and parsnips—crossing savannas—trailing in
 * forests,

Prospecting—gold-digging—girdling the trees of a
 * new purchase,

Scorched ankle-deep by the hot sand—hauling my
 * boat down the shallow river,

Where the panther walks to and fro on a limb over-
 * head—Where the buck turns furiously at the
 * hunter,

Where the rattlesnake suns his flabby length on a
 * rock—Where the otter is feeding on fish,

Where the alligator in his tough pimples sleeps by the
 * bayou,

Where the black bear is searching for roots or honey
 * —Where the beaver pats the mud with his
 * paddle-tail,

Over the growing sugar—over the cotton plant—
 * over the rice in its low moist field,

Over the sharp-peaked farm house, with its scalloped
 * scum and slender shoots from the gutters,

Over the western persimmon—over the long-leaved
 * corn—over the delicate blue-flowered flax,

Over the white and brown buckwheat, a hummer
 * and buzzer there with the rest,