Page:Leaves of Grass (1860).djvu/80

72 Speeding amid the seven satellites, and the broad
 * ring, and the diameter of eighty thousand miles,

Speeding with tailed meteors—throwing fire-balls
 * like the rest,

Carrying the crescent child that carries its own full
 * mother in its belly,

Storming, enjoying, planning, loving, cautioning, Backing and filling, appearing and disappearing, I tread day and night such roads.

I visit the orchards of spheres, and look at the product, And look at quintillions ripened, and look at quintillions
 * green.

I fly the flight of the fluid and swallowing soul,
 * My course runs below the soundings of plummets.

I help myself to material and immaterial,
 * No guard can shut me off, nor law prevent me.

I anchor my ship for a little while only, My messengers continually cruise away, or bring
 * their returns to me.

I go hunting polar furs and the seal—Leaping
 * chasms with a pike-pointed staff—Clinging to
 * topples of brittle and blue.

I ascend to the foretruck, I take my place late at night in the crow's-nest, We sail the arctic sea—it is plenty light enough, Through the clear atmosphere I stretch around on
 * the wonderful beauty,