The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab and my loitering. I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my BAR… - Walt Whitman

I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable.

I too am not a bit tamed. I too am untranslatable.

Loafe with me on the grass.... loose the stop from
your throat,
Not words, not music or rhyme I want.... not custom
or lecture,
not even the best,
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
I mind how we lay in June, such a transparent summer
morning;
You settled your head athwart my hips and gently
turned over
upon me,
And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and
plunged your
tongue to my barestript heart,
And reached till you felt my beard, and reached till
you held my
feet.

he cleanest expression is that which finds no sphere worthy of itself and makes one

I henceforth tread the world, chaste, temperate, an early riser, a steady grower.