Page:Leaves of Grass (1860).djvu/81

The enormous masses of ice pass me, and I pass them
—the scenery is plain in all directions,
The white-topped mountains show in the distance—
I fling out my fancies toward them,
We are approaching some great battle-field in which
we are soon to be engaged,
We pass the colossal out-posts of the encampment—
we pass with still feet and caution,
Or we are entering by the suburbs some vast and
ruined city.
The blocks and fallen architecture more than all the
living cities of the globe.
 
208.I am a free companion—I bivouac by invading
watchfires.

209.I turn the bridegroom out of bed, and stay with the
bride myself,
I tighten her all night to my thighs and lips.

210.My voice is the wife's voice, the screech by the rail
of the stairs.
They fetch my man's body up, dripping and drowned.

211.I understand the large hearts of heroes.
The courage of present times and all times.
How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless
wreck of the steam-ship, and Death chasing it
up and down the storm.
How he knuckled tight, and gave not back one inch,
and was faithful of days and faithful of nights.
And chalked in large letters, on a board, Be of good
cheer, We will not desert you,