some poems from Walt Whitman on Leaves of Grass

 Reading a book, I found this poem...

 Whoever you are holding me now in hand,
Without one thing all be useless,
I give you fair warning before you attempt me further,
I am not what you supposed, but far different.

Who is he that would become my follower?
Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections?
The way is suspicious, the result uncertain, perhaps destructive,

You would have to give up all else, I alone would expect
to be your sole and exclusive standard,
Your novitiate would even then be long and exhausting,
The whole past theory of your life and all conformity to the lives,
around you would have to be abandon'd,
Therefore release me now before troubling yourself any further,
let go your hand from my shoulders,
Put me down and depart on your way.


So went and look for Leaves of grass, and this are some poems I liked from that book...

Good-Bye My Fancy

GOOD-BYE my fancy - (I had a word to say,
But 'tis not quite the time - The best of any man's word or say,
Is when its proper place arrives - and for its meaning,
I keep mine till the last.)

Behind a Good-bye there lurks much of the salutation of another
beginning - to me, Development Continuity, Immortality,
Transformation, are the chiefest life-meanings of Nature and
Humanity, and are the sine qua non of all facts, and each fact.
Why do folks dwell so fondly on the last words, advice,
appearance, of the departing? Those last words are not samples of
the best, which involve vitality at its full, and balance, and
perfect control and scope. But they are valuable beyond measure to
confirm and endorse the varied train, facts, theories and faith of
the whole preceding life.

Stronger Lessons

HAVE you learn'd lessons only of those who admired you, and were
tender with you, and stood aside for you?
Have you not learn'd great lessons from those who reject you, and
brace themselves against you? or who treat you with contempt,
or dispute the passage with you?

All Is Truth

O ME, man of slack faith so long,
Standing aloof, denying portions so long,
Only aware to-day of compact all-diffused truth,
Discovering to-day there is no lie or form of lie, and can be none,
but grows as inevitably upon itself as the truth does upon
itself,
Or as any law of the earth or any natural production of the earth
does.

(This is curious and may not be realized immediately, but it must be
realized,
I feel in myself that I represent falsehoods equally with the rest,
And that the universe does.)

Where has fail'd a perfect return indifferent of lies or the truth?
Is it upon the ground, or in water or fire? or in the spirit of man?
or in the meat and blood?

Meditating among liars and retreating sternly into myself, I see
that there are really no liars or lies after all,
And that nothing fails its perfect return, and that what are called
lies are perfect returns,
And that each thing exactly represents itself and what has preceded
it,
And that the truth includes all, and is compact just as much as
space is compact,
And that there is no flaw or vacuum in the amount of the truth - but
that all is truth without exception;
And henceforth I will go celebrate any thing I see or am,
And sing and laugh and deny nothing.

Reversals

LET that which stood in front go behind,
Let that which was behind advance to the front,
Let bigots, fools, unclean persons, offer new propositions,
Let the old propositions be postponed,
Let a man seek pleasure everywhere except in himself,
Let a woman seek happiness everywhere except in herself