O let some past deceived one hiss in your ears, how
many have prest on the same as you are pressing
now,
How many have fondly supposed what you are supposing
now—only to be disappointed.
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13.
Calamus taste,
(For I must change the strain—these are not to be
pensive leaves, but leaves of joy,)
Roots and leaves unlike any but themselves,
Scents brought to men and women from the wild
woods, and from the pond-side,
Breast-sorrel and pinks of love—fingers that wind
around tighter than vines.
Gushes from the throats of birds, hid in the foliage
of trees, as the sun is risen,
Breezes of land and love—Breezes set from living
shores out to you on the living sea—to you,
O sailors!
Frost-mellowed berries, and Third Month twigs, offered
fresh to young persons wandering out in
the fields when the winter breaks up,
Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever
you are,
Buds to be unfolded on the old terms,
If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they will
open, and bring form, color, perfume, to you,
If you become the aliment and the wet, they will
become flowers, fruits, tall branches and trees,
