It seems to me I can look over and behold them, in Prussia, Italy, France, Spain—or far, far away,

in China, or in Russia or India—talking other dialects;

And it seems to me if I could know those men, I should become attached to them, as I do to men in my

own lands.

O I know we should be brethren and lovers,

I know I should be happy with them.

W

ENVY.

HEN I peruse the conquered fame of heroes, and the victories of mighty generals, I do not envy the generals,

Nor the President in his Presidency, nor the rich in his great house.

But when I read of the brotherhood of lovers, how it was

with them,

How through life, through dangers, odium, unchanging, long and long,

Through youth, and through middle and old age, how unfaltering, how affectionate and faithful they were, Then I am pensive—I hastily put down the book, and walk away, filled with the bitterest envy.

I

THE CITY OF FRIENDS.

DREAMED in a dream I saw a city invincible to the attacks of the whole of the rest of the earth;

I dreamed that it was the new City of Friends;

Nothing was greater there than the quality of robust love —it led the rest;

It was seen every hour in the actions of the men of that

city,

And in all their looks and words.

OUT OF THE CROWD.

I.

UT of the rolling ocean, the crowd, came a drop

Ο gently to me,

Whispering, I love you, before long I die:

I have travelled a long way, merely to look on you, to touch

you,

For I could not die till I once looked on you,

For I feared I might afterward lose you.

2.

Now we have met, we have looked, we are safe;
Return in peace to the ocean, my love;

I too am part of that ocean, my love—we are not so much separated;

Behold the great rondure—the cohesion of all, how per

fect!

But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us, As for an hour carrying us diverse—yet cannot carry us diverse for ever;

Be not impatient—a little space—know you, I salute the air, the ocean, and the land,

Every day, at sundown, for your dear sake, my love.

A

AMONG THE MULTITUDE.

MONG the men and women, the multitude,

I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs,

Acknowledging none else—not parent, wife, husband, brother, child, any nearer than I am;

Some are baffled—But that one is not that one knows

me.

Ah, lover and perfect equal!

I meant that you should discover me so, by my faint indirections;

And I, when I meet you, mean to discover you by the like

in you.

LEAVES OF GRASS.