|
| And what I assume you shall assume, |
For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs
to you.
|
| I loafe and invite my soul, |
I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of
summer grass.
|
Houses and rooms are full of perfumes—the
shelves are crowded with perfumes,
|
I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and
like it,
|
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I
shall not let it.
|
The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste
of the distillation, it is odorless,
|
-- from Leaves of Grass
|
|
