Live Oak, with Moss.
Edited by Steven Olsen-Smith
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Live Oak, with Moss. [1]
I.
Not the heat flames up and con-sumes, Not the sea-waves hurry in and
out, Not the air, delicious and dry, the
air of the ripe summer, bears
lightly along white down-balls
of myriads of seeds, wafted,
sailing gracefully, to drop
where they may, Not these—O none of these, more
than the flames of me, con-
suming, burning for his love
whom I love—O none, more
than I, hurrying in and out; Does the tide hurry, seeking some-
thing, [2] and never give up?—O
I, the same, to [3] seek my life-long
lover; O nor down-balls, nor perfumes, nor
the high rain-emitting clouds,
are borne through the open air,
more than my copious soul is
borne through the open air, wafted
in all directions, for friendship, for
love.—
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II. [4]
I saw in Louisiana alive-oak growing, All alone stood it, and the
moss hung down from the
branches, Without any companion it grew
there, glistening out with [5]
joyous leaves of dark green, And its look, rude, unbending,
lusty, made me think of
myself; But I wondered how it could
utter joyous leaves, standing
alone there without its friend,
its lover—For I knew I could
not; And I plucked a twig with
a certain number of leaves
upon it, and twined around
it a little moss, and brought
it away—And I have placed
it in sight in my room,
View Page [verso]Full size in new window
View Page [recto]Full size in new window It is not needed to remind
me as of my friends, (for I
believe ^lately [6] I think of little
else than of them,) Yet it remains to me a
curious token—I write
these pieces, and name
them after it; [7] For all that, and though the
live oak [8] glistens there in Louis-
iana, solitary in a wide
flat space, uttering joyous
leaves all its life, without
a friend, a lover, near—I
know very well I could
not.
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III. [9]
When I heard at the close ofthe day how I had been
praised in the Capitol, still
it was not a happy night
for me that followed; [10] And else, [11] when I caroused—Or [12]
when my plans [13] were accom-
plished—it was well enough— [14]
Still I was not happy; [15] But that the [16] day when [17] I rose
at dawn from the bed of
perfect health, electric, in-
haling sweet breath, When I saw the full moon
in the west grow pale and
disappear in the morning light, When I wandered alone over the
beach, and undressing, bathed,
laughing with the waters, and
saw the sun rise,
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View Page [recto]Full size in new window And when I thought how
my friend, my lover, was
coming, then I [18] was happy; O then each [19] breath tasted
sweeter—and all that day my
food nourished me more—And
the beautiful day passed well, And the next came with equal
joy—And with the next, [20] at
evening, came my friend, And that night, O you happy
waters, I heard you beating
the shores—But my heart
beat happier than you—for
he I love was [21] returned and
sleeping by my side, And that night in the stillness
his face was inclined toward
me, while the moon's clear
beams shone, And his arm lay lightly over my
breast—And that night I
was happy. [22]
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IV.
This moment as I sit alone,yearning and pensive, it
seems to me there are other
men, in other lands, yearning
and pensive. It [23] seems to me I can look
over and behold them, in
Germany, France, Spain—Or
far away in China, or in [24]
Russia—talking other dialects, [25] And it seems to me if I
could know those men better [26]
I should love them as I
love men in my own lands, It seems to me they are as
wise, beautiful, benevolent,
as any in my own lands; O I know we should be
brethren—I know [27] I should
be happy with them.
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V.
Long I thought that knowledgealone would suffice me—O
if I could but obtain
knowledge! Then my lands [28] engrossed me— [29]
For them I would live—I
would be their orator; Then I met the examples of old
and new heroes—I heard the
examples [30] of warriors, sailors,
and all dauntless persons—
And it seemed to me I too
had it in me to be as
dauntless as any, and would
be so; And then to finish all, it
came to me to strike up the
songs of the New World—And
then I believed my life must
be spent in singing; But now take notice, Land of
the prairies, Land of the south
savannas, Ohio's land,
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—and you, Lake [31] Huron—and
all that with you roll toward
Niagara—and you Niagara
also, And you, Californian mountains—
that you all find some one else
that he be your singer of songs, For I can be your singer of songs
no longer—I have passed ahead— [32]
I have ceased to enjoy them. I have found him who loves me,
as I him, in perfect love, With the rest I dispense—I sever
from all that I thought would
suffice me, for it does not—it
is now empty and tasteless
to me, I heed knowledge, and the grandeur
of The States, and the examples
of heroes, no more,
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songs—I am to go with
him I love, and he is to
go with me, It is to be enough for each
of us that we are together—
We never separate again.—
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VI.
What think you I havetaken my pen to record? Not the battle-ship, perfect-
model'd, majestic, that I saw
to day arrive in the offing,
under full sail, Nor the splendors of the past
day—nor the splendors of
the night that envelopes me—
Nor the glory and growth of
the great city spread around
me, But the two youngmen [33] I saw
to-day on the pier, parting
the parting of dear friends. The one who to remained remain [34] hung on
the other's neck and passionately
kissed him—while the one
who departed to depart [35] tightly prest the
one who remained to remain [36] in his arms.
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VII.
You bards of ages hence! [37] whenyou refer to me, mind not
so much my poems, Nor speak of me that I pro-
phesied of The States and led
them the way of their glories, But come, I will inform you
who I was underneath that
impassive exterior—I will
tell you what to say of me,
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my picture as that of the
tenderest lover, The friend, the lover's portrait, of
whom his friend, his lover,
was fondest, Who was not proud of his songs,
but of the measureless ocean
of love within him—and
freely poured it forth, Who often walked lonesome walks
thinking of his dearest friends,
his lovers, Who pensive, away from one he
loved, often lay sleepless and [38]
dissatisfied at night, Who, dreading lest the one he loved
might after all be indifferent
to him, felt the sick feeling—
O sick! sick! Whose happiest days were those, far
away ^through fields, [39] in woods, or on [40] hills, he
and another, wandering hand in
hand, they twain, apart from
other men. Who ever, as he sauntered the
streets, curved with his arm
the manly shoulder of his
friend—while the curving
arm of his friend rested
upon him also.
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VIII. [41]
Hours continuing long, soreand heavy-hearted, Hours of the dusk, [42] when I
withdraw to a lonesome and
unfrequented spot, seating [43]
myself, leaning my face
in my hands, Hours sleepless, deep in the night,
when I go forth, speeding
swiftly the country roads, or
through the city streets, or
pacing miles and miles, stifling
plaintive cries,
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—For he, the one I cannot
content myself without—
soon I saw him content [44]
himself without me, Hours when I am forgotten [45] —
(O weeks and months are
passing, but I believe I am
never to forget!) Sullen and suffering hours—
(I am ashamed—but it is
useless—I am what I am;) Hours of my [46] torment—I
wonder if other men ever
have the like, out of the
like feelings? Is there even one other like
me [47] —distracted—his friend,
his lover, lost to him? Is he too as I am now? Does
he still rise in the morning,
dejected, thinking who is lost to him? [48]
And at night, awaking, think who is
lost? Does he too harbor his friendship si-
lent and endless? Harbor his anguish
and passion? Does some stray reminder, or the
casual mention of a name, bring
the fit back upon him, taciturn
and deprest? Does he see himself reflected in me?
In these hours does he see the
face of his hours reflected?
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IX.
I dreamed in a dream of acity where all the men
were like brothers, O I saw them tenderly love
each other—I often saw
them, in numbers, walking
hand in hand; I dreamed that was the city
of robust friends—Nothing
was greater there than the
quality of [49] manly 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.—
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X. [50]
O you whom I ^often and [51] silently comewhere you [52] are, that
I may be with you, As I walk by your side, or
sit near, or remain in
the same room with you, Little you know the subtle
electric fire that for
your sake is playing
within me.—
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XI.
Earth! My likeness! [53] Thoughyou look so impassive,
ample and spheric ^there, , [54]
—I now suspect that
is not all, I now suspect there is
something terrible in you,
ready to break forth, For [55] an athlete loves me,
—and I him—But toward
him there is something
fierce and terrible in me, I dare not tell it in words—
not even in these songs.
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XII. [56]
To the young man, manythings to absorb, to engraft,
to develope, [57] I teach, that
he be my eleve, But if through him rolls [58]
not the blood [59] of
divine [60] friendship, hot
and red—If he be not
silently selected by lovers,
and do not silently select
lovers—of what use were
it for him to seek to
become eleve of mine? [61]
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Notes
1.
Title: Live Oak, with Moss.] Struck out by a single horizontal line, with
the title "Calamus-Leaves" and a period inscribed above—all in light brown ink.
2.
1.5: something] A horizontal blue pencil line has been supplied under an
end-line double hyphen following "some." If intended for hyphenation, as
Bowers seems to assert ("the hyphen has been mended in blue pencil"),
the blue line is superfluous because the double hyphen is clearly legible;
see Whitman's Manuscripts: Leaves of Grass (1860) A
Parallel Text (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press),
92 (hereafter cited parenthetically).
4.
2: II.] The period is omitted by Whitman, and is supplied here following the precedent
established in his heading to Poem I and observed by him in headings IV through
IX and XI.
7.
2.8: I write . . . after it] Struck out by horizontal lines, with "—it makes me think of
manly love." interlined above—all in light brown ink.
8.
2.9: live oak] Interlined with a caret above "tree," which is struck out by a
diagonal slash; unnoted by Bowers (102), in "live" Whitman initially inscribed an f
and subsequently over-wrote it with a v, probably before going on to
inscribe the terminal e—all in black ink.
9.
3: III.] The period is omitted by Whitman, and is supplied here following the precedent
established in his heading to Poem I and observed by him in headings IV through IX and XI.
12.
3.2: Or] Crossed out at the line ending, with a dash interlined above, and "—Nor" interlined
with a caret at the start of the next line before "when"—all in pencil.
13.
3.2: my plans] The word "favorite" is interlined with a caret in pencil between "my" and "plans".
14.
3.2: it was well enough] Crossed out, with "was I really happy," interlined above—all in pencil.
16.
3.3: the] Interlined above "that," which is struck out by a diagonal slash—all in black ink.
The substitution of "the" was subsequently amended in pencil to "that". This was later
entirely crossed out in pencil, again with the substitution of "the" in pencil, which was
later struck out yet again, with "that" restored in pencil. The original black ink substitution
is observed here.
17.
3.3: when] Crossed out in pencil, with another "when" later interlined and then crossed out in pencil.
18.
3.6: then I] The upper-case letter "O" is interlined with a caret (both in pencil) between "then" and "I".
19.
3.7: O then each] "O" crossed out, with "then" emended to "Then"—all in pencil. Later, "Then" was
crossed out, with "each" emended to "Each"—all in pencil.
20.
3.8: next,] Bowers identifies the comma as accidentally smudged by Whitman in the process of erasing
"some illegible word" beneath it (88), but no such erasure is evident. The comma is instead largely
obscured by a layer of paste transferred in the process of Whitman's paste-over revision of
lines 24-26, and Bowers seems to have mistaken contours in the dried paste (likely applied by
Whitman's thumb print or finger print) for an erased word.
22.
3.9-11: And that night . . . I was happy] Canceled by a paste-over leaf, on which the following four
lines are substituted in a black ink ({i} signifies an insertion in the same ink):
And that night, while all
was still, I heard the
waters roll slowly continually
up the shores I heard the hissing rustle of
the liqu{i}d and sands, as directed
to me, whispering to congratulate
me,—For the friend I love lay
sleeping by my side, In the stillness his face was in-
clined towards me, while the
moon's clear beams shone, And his arm lay lightly over my
breast—And that night I was happy.
was still, I heard the
waters roll slowly continually
up the shores I heard the hissing rustle of
the liqu{i}d and sands, as directed
to me, whispering to congratulate
me,—For the friend I love lay
sleeping by my side, In the stillness his face was in-
clined towards me, while the
moon's clear beams shone, And his arm lay lightly over my
breast—And that night I was happy.
23.
4.2: It] As Bowers observes, "Whitman began the line with 'I,' and then emended it to a t, prefixing
capital I," in effect beginning the line anew at a point closer to the right edge of the leaf, and
at a position more closely aligned with the starting point of line 27 directly above (106).
24.
4.2: China, or in] The word "India" and a comma are interlined with a caret between "China," and "or";
the word "in" (immediately preceding "Russia") is crossed out—all in pencil.
25.
4.2: dialects,] The comma is faint here not from erasure but apparently a flaw at the point of Whitman's
pen, as further indicated by similar imperfections in the script from here to the end of the leaf. That
Whitman paused in transcription to replace or repair his implement is indicated by the absence of
such flaws on the following leaf 8, which contains the first 5 lines of Poem V.
26.
4.3: better] Crossed out, with a comma interlined after "men" but later crossed out—all in pencil.
27.
4.5: know . . . know] Both instances of "know" are crossed out, with "think" interlined above at both
points—all in pencil.
28.
5.2: my lands] Struck out by a single line, with "the Land of the Prairies" interlined above—all in pencil.
30.
5.3: I heard the examples] The clause, "the examples" is struck out by diagonal slashes in black ink.
31.
5.6: Lake] Originally inscribed with a lower case "l," but emended to upper case in the same ink.
33.
6.4: two men] The word, "young" is struck out by diagonal slashes in between "two" and "men" in black ink.
34.
6.5: to remain] Interlined above "who remained," which is struck out by diagonal slashes—all in black ink.
35.
6.5: to depart] Interlined above "who departed," which is struck out by a horizontal line—all in black ink.
36.
6.5: to remain] Interlined above "who remained," which is struck out by a horizontal line—all in black ink.
41.
8: VIII.] Supplied in black ink above canceled "IX." The poem overwrites an erased pencil inscription,
"finished in the other city" within enlarged parentheses.
42.
8.2: dusk] It is not clear whether the "k" is "heavily mended," as Bowers asserts (83), or inadvertently smudged.
43.
8.2: seating] As Bowers observes, the "ing" overwrites a smudge that may have been an "ed" that was effaced
while the ink was still wet (82).
47.
8.8: me] Bowers asserts "me" to be "written over a smudge, probably representing an erasure" (84). As with "lost to"
directly below, the "smudge" is in fact dried glue transferred from the point where original notebook leaf
14 and the top portion of 15 were joined (between lines 69 and 70 above). The displaced glue was wiped by
Whitman using a thumb or finger, the print of which is discernable at the spot.
48.
8.9: lost to] Bowers asserts "lost to him?" to be "written over a smudged erasure" (84). As with "me" directly above,
the "smudged erasure" is in fact dried glue transferred from the point where original notebook leaf 14 and
the top portion of 15 were joined (between lines 69 and 70 above). The displaced glue was wiped by Whitman
using a thumb or finger, the print of which is discernable at the spot. An identical situation appears at
the end of the line with "lost?", unnoted by Bowers.
50.
10: X.] The period is omitted by Whitman, and is supplied here following the precedent established in his heading
to Poem I and observed by him in headings IV through IX and XI.
53.
11.1: My likeness!] Struck out by diagonal slashes in black ink. The "n" in "likeness" is smeared but not verifiably
"mended over some smudged-out letter," as Bowers asserts (114).
54.
11.1: spheric there] Unnoted by Bowers (114), the line originally ended with a period at "spheric," presumably in error.
Whitman added "there" followed by a comma or (less likely) a semi-colon, which he wiped out while the ink was still wet.
He neglected to cancel the period following "spheric," which is omitted here.
55.
11.3: For] The "o" in "For" is smeared and perhaps written over an "a", as reported by Bowers (114). Also noted by Bowers,
in the same ink Whitman used a caret to insert an em dash before "and" at the start of the next textual line (114). The revision
observes faithfully Whitman's canceled draft version of this poem, where the opening em dash was retained when Whitman interlined
"and I him—but" (see Whitman Archive loc.0025.001 <http://www.whitmanarchive.org/manuscripts/figures/loc.00225.001.jpg>.
56.
12: XII.] The period is omitted by Whitman, and is supplied here following the precedent established in his heading
to Poem I and observed by him in headings IV through IX and XI.
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