LEAVES OF GRASS

child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; 
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.         15
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. 
 
Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, 
scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped, 
Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose? 
 
Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.         20
 
Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, 
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones, 
Growing among black folks as among white, 
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same. 
 
And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.         25
 
Tenderly will I use you curling grass, 
It may be you transpire from the [bad word] of young men, 
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, 
It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers’ laps, 
And here you are the mothers’ laps.         30
 
This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers, 
Darker than the colorless beards of old men, 
Dark [bad word] from under the faint red roofs of mouths. 
 
O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, 
And I perceive they do [bad word] from the roofs of mouths for nothing.         35
 
I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women, 
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps. 
 
What do you think has [bad word] of the young and old men? 
And what do you think has [bad word] of the women and children? 
 
They are alive and well somewhere,         40
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, 
And if ever there was it led forward life and does not wait at the end to arrest it, 
And ceased the moment life appeared. 
 
All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, 
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.         45
 
I know I am deathless, 
I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a [bad word]  
I know I shall not pass like a child’s carlacue cut with a burnt stick at night. 
 
One world is away and by far the largest to me, and that is myself, 
And whether [bad word] to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten million years,         50
I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait. 
 
My foothold is tenoned and mortised in granite, 
I laugh at what you call dissolution, 
And I know the amplitude of time.