[I Sing the Body Electric]

THE bodies of men and women engirth me, and I engirth

them,

They will not let me off nor I them till I go with them and

respond to them and love them.

 

Was it dreamed whether those who corrupted their own live

bodies could conceal themselves?

And whether those who defiled the living were as bad as they who

defiled the dead?⁴⁰

 

The expression of the body of man or woman balks account,

The male is perfect and that of the female is perfect.

 

The expression of a wellmade man appears not only in his face,

It is in his limbs and joints also .... it is curiously in the joints of

his hips and wrists,

It is in his walk .. the carriage of his neck .. the flex of his waist

and knees .... dress does not hide him,

The strong sweet supple quality he has strikes through the cotton

and flannel;

To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem .. perhaps

more,

You linger to see his back and the back of his neck and

shoulderside.

 

The sprawl and fulness of babes .... the bosoms and heads of

women .... the folds of their dress .... their style as we pass

in the street .... the contour of their shape downwards;

The swimmer naked in the swimmingbath .. seen as he swims

through the salt transparent greenshine, or lies on his back

and rolls silently with the heave of the water;

Framers bare-armed framing a house .. hoisting the beams in

their places .. or using the mallet and mortising-chisel,

The bending forward and backward of rowers in rowboats .... the

horseman in his saddle;

Girls and mothers and housekeepers in all their exquisite offices,

The group of laborers seated at noontime with their open dinner

kettles, and their wives waiting,

The female soothing a child .... the farmer’s daughter in the

garden or cowyard,

The woodman rapidly swinging his axe in the woods .... the

young fellow hoeing corn .... the sleighdriver guiding his six

horses through the crowd,

The wrestle of wrestlers .... two apprentice-boys, quite grown,

lusty, goodnatured, nativeborn, out on the vacant lot at

sundown after work,

The coats vests and caps thrown down .. the embrace of love and

resistance,

The upperhold and underhold—the hair rumpled over and

blinding the eyes;

The march of firemen in their own costumes—the play of the

masculine muscle through cleansetting trowsers and

waistbands,

The slow return from the fire .... the pause when the bell strikes

suddenly again—the listening on the alert,

The natural perfect and varied attitudes .... the bent head, the

curved neck, the counting:

Suchlike I love .... I loosen myself and pass freely .... and am

at the mother’s breast with the little child,

And swim with the swimmer, and wrestle with wrestlers, and march

in line with the firemen, and pause and listen and count.

I knew a man .... he was a common farmer .... he was the father of five sons .... and in them were the fathers of sons .... and in them were the fathers of sons.

 

This man was a wonderful vigor and calmness and beauty of

person;

The shape of his head, the richness and breadth of his

manners, the pale yellow and white of his hair and beard,

the immeasurable meaning of his black eyes,

These I used to go and visit him to see .... He was wise also,

He was six feet tall .... he was over eighty years old .... his sons

were massive clean bearded tanfaced and handsome,

They and his daughters loved him ... all who saw him loved

him ... they did not love him by allowance ... they loved

him with personal love;

He drank water only .... the blood showed like scarlet through

the clear brown skin of his face;

He was a frequent gunner and fisher ... he sailed his boat

himself ... he had a fine one presented to him by a

shipjoiner .... he had fowling pieces, presented to him by

men that loved him;

When he went with his five sons and many grandsons to hunt or

fish you would pick him out as the most beautiful and

vigorous of the gang,

You would wish long and long to be with him .... you would

wish to sit by him in the boat that you and he might touch

each other.

 

I have perceived that to be with those I like is enough,

To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,

To be surrounded by beautiful curious breathing laughing flesh is

enough,

To pass among them .. to touch any one .... to rest my arm ever

so lightly round his or her neck for a moment .... what is

this then?

I do not ask any more delight .... I swim in it as in a sea.

There is something in staying close to men and women and

looking on them and in the contact and odor of them that

pleases the soul well,

All things please the soul, but these please the soul well.

This is the female form,

A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot,

It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction,

I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless

vapor .... all falls aside but myself and it,

Books, art, religion, time .. the visible and solid earth .. the

atmosphere and the fringed clouds .. what was expected of

heaven or feared of hell are now consumed,

Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it .. the response

likewise ungovernable,

Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands—all

diffused .... mine too diffused,

Ebb stung by the flow, and flow stung by the ebb .... loveflesh

swelling and deliciously aching,

Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous .... quivering

jelly of love .... white-blow and delirious juice,

Bridegroom-night of love working surely and softly into the

prostrate dawn,

Undulating into the willing and yielding day,

Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweetfleshed day.

 

This is the nucleus ... after the child is born of woman the man

is born of woman,

This is the bath of birth ... this is the merge of small and large

and the outlet again.

 

Be not ashamed women .. your privilege encloses the rest.. it is

the exit of the rest,

You are the gates of the body and you are the gates of the soul.

 

The female contains all qualities and tempers them .... she is in

her place .... she moves with perfect balance,

She is all things duly veiled .... she is both passive and

active .... she is to conceive daughters as well as sons and

sons as well as daughters.

 

As I see my soul reflected in nature .... as I see through a mist

one with inexpressible completeness and beauty .... see the

bent head and arms folded over the breast .... the female

I see,

I see the bearer of the great fruit which is immortality .... the

good thereof is not tasted by roues, and never can be.

 

The male is not less the soul, nor more .... he too is in his place,

He too is all qualities .... he is action and power .... the flush of

the known universe is in him,

Scorn becomes him well and appetite and defiance become him

well,

The fiercest largest passions .. bliss that is utmost and sorrow that

is utmost become him well .... pride is for him,

The fullspread pride of man is calming and excellent to the

soul;

Knowledge becomes him .... he likes it always .... he brings

everything to the test of himself,

Whatever the survey .. whatever the sea and the sail, he strikes

soundings at last only here,

Where else does he strike soundings except here?

 

The man’s body is sacred and the woman’s body is sacred .... it

is no matter who,

Is it a slave? Is it one of the dullfaced immigrants just landed on

the wharf?

 

Each belongs here or anywhere just as much as the welloff ....

just as much as you,

Each has his or her place in the procession.

 

All is a procession,

The universe is a procession with measured and beautiful motion.

Do you know so much that you call the slave or the dullfaced

ignorant?

Do you suppose you have a right to a good sight ... and he or she

has no right to a sight?

Do you think matter has cohered together from its diffused

float, and the soil is on the surface and water runs

and vegetation sprouts for you ... and not for him

and her?

 

A slave at auction!

I help the auctioneer .... the sloven does not half know his business.

 

Gentlemen look on this curious creature,

Whatever the bids of the bidders they cannot be high enough for

him,

For him the globe lay preparing quintillions of years without one

animal or plant,

For him the revolving cycles truly and steadily rolled.

 

In that head the allbaffling brain,

In it and below it the making of the attributes of heroes.

 

Examine these limbs, red black or white .... they are very cunning

in tendon and nerve;

They shall be stript that you may see them.

 

Exquisite senses, lifelit eyes, pluck, volition,

Flakes of breastmuscle, pliant backbone and neck, flesh not

flabby, goodsized arms and legs,

And wonders within there yet.

 

Within there runs his blood .... the same old blood .. the same

red running blood;

There swells and jets his heart .... There all passions and

desires .. all reachings and aspirations:

Do you think they are not there because they are not expressed in

parlors and lecture-rooms?

This is not only one man .... he is the father of those who shall

be fathers in their turns,

In him the start of populous states and rich republics,

Of him countless immortal lives with countless embodiments and

enjoyments.

 

How do you know who shall come from the offspring of his

offspring through the centuries?

Who might you find you have come from yourself if you could

trace back through the centuries?

 

A woman at auction,

She too is not only herself.... she is the teeming mother of

mothers,

She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be mates to the

mothers.

 

Her daughters or their daughters’ daughters .. who knows who

shall mate with them?

Who knows through the centuries what heroes may come from

them?

 

In them and of them natal love .... in them the divine mystery .... the same old beautiful mystery.

 

Have you ever loved a woman?

Your mother .... is she living? .... Have you been much with

her? and has she been much with you?

Do you not see that these are exactly the same to all in all nations

and times all over the earth?

 

If life and the soul are sacred the human body is sacred;

And the glory and sweet of a man is the token of manhood

untainted,

And in man or woman a clean strong firmfibred body is beautiful

as the most beautiful face.

Have you seen the fool that corrupted his own live body? or the

fool that corrupted her own live body?

For they do not conceal themselves, and cannot conceal

themselves.

 

Who degrades or defiles the living human body is cursed,

Who degrades or defiles the body of the dead is not more

cursed.