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Of the mad pushes of waves upon the land—I them
chanting,
The overture lightly sounding—the strain anticipating,
The welcome nearness—the sight of the perfect
body,
The swimmer swimming naked in the bath, or motionless
on his back lying and floating,
The female form approaching—I, pensive, love-flesh
tremulous, aching;
The slave's body for sale—I, sternly, with harsh
voice, auctioneering,
The divine list, for myself or you, or for any one,
making,
The face—the limbs—the index from head to foot,
and what it arouses,
The mystic deliria—the madness amorous—the utter
abandonment,
Hark, close and still, what I now whisper to you,
I love you—you entirely possess me,
O I wish that you and I escape from the rest, and go
utterly off—O free and lawless,
Two hawks in the air—two fishes swimming in the
sea not more lawless than we;)
The furious storm through me careering—I passionately
trembling,
The oath of the inseparableness of two together—of
the woman that loves me, and whom I love more
than my life—That oath swearing,
(O I willingly stake all, for you!
O let me be lost, if it must be so!
O you and I—what is it to us what the rest do or
think?