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Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you

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I heard what was said of the universe,
Heard it and heard it of several thousand years;
It is middling well as far as it goes—but is that all?

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Enough! enough! enough!
Somehow I have been stunn’d. Stand back!
Give me a little time beyond my cuff’d head, slumbers, dreams, gaping,
I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake

Do i feel some vulnerability from Walt?

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Did you fear some scrofula out of the unflagging pregnancy? Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work’d over and rectified?

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Did you fear some scrofula out of the unflagging pregnancy? Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work’d over and rectified?

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Are you doubting like me?

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Prodigal, you have given me love—therefore I to you give love! O unspeakable passionate love.

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Prodigal, you have given me love—therefore I to you give love! O unspeakable passionate love.

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What is a man anyhow? what am I? what are you? All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own, Else it were time lost listening to me

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What is a man anyhow? what am I? what are you? All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own, Else it were time lost listening to me

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if by this moment the reader is not aware of Whitman's message, he/she might as well have been wasting their time

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This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair, This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning, This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face, This the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again. Do you guess I have some intricate purpose? Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has. Do you take it I would astonish? Does the daylight astonish? does the early redstart twittering through the woods? Do I astonish more than they? This hour I tell things in confidence, I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.

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This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair, This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning, This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face, This the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again. Do you guess I have some intricate purpose? Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has. Do you take it I would astonish? Does the daylight astonish? does the early redstart twittering through the woods? Do I astonish more than they? This hour I tell things in confidence, I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.

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He states that everyone is equal to his eyes, yet he knows this statement might astonish people

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Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.  

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Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.  

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There is even a good side in loosing

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I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise, Regardless of others, ever regardful of others, Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,

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I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise, Regardless of others, ever regardful of others, Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,

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All of us have this sort of "duality"

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What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me, Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns, Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me, Not asking the sky to come down to my good will, Scattering it freely forever.

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What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me, Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns, Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me, Not asking the sky to come down to my good will, Scattering it freely forever.

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The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me, I tuck’d my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time; You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.

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The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me, I tuck’d my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time; You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.

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Seems like Walt invites the reader to picture the image

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Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded, I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no, And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be shaken away.

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Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded, I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no, And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be shaken away.

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You are not guilty, I know that as a human you are flawed but that is fine

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Speeding through space, speeding through heaven and the stars,
Speeding amid the seven satellites and the broad ring, and the diameter of eighty thousand miles,
Speeding with tail’d meteors, throwing fire-balls like the rest,

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My final merit I refuse you, I refuse putting from me what I really am,Encompass worlds, but never try to encompass me,I crowd your sleekest and best by simply looking toward you.

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My final merit I refuse you, I refuse putting from me what I really am,Encompass worlds, but never try to encompass me,I crowd your sleekest and best by simply looking toward you.

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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 valvèd voice

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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 valvèd voice

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let me hear your voice, that is what interests me

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I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you, And you must not be abased to the other.

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I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you, And you must not be abased to the other.

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As I do not let others abase me, you should not let others do it to you

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Come now I will not be tantalized, you conceive too much of articulation,Do you not know O speech how the buds beneath you are folded?Waiting in gloom, protected by frost,The dirt receding before my prophetical screams,I underlying causes to balance them at last,My knowledge my live parts, it keeping tally with the meaning of all things,Happiness, (which whoever hears me let him or her set out in search of this day.)

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Come now I will not be tantalized, you conceive too much of articulation,Do you not know O speech how the buds beneath you are folded?Waiting in gloom, protected by frost,The dirt receding before my prophetical screams,I underlying causes to balance them at last,My knowledge my live parts, it keeping tally with the meaning of all things,Happiness, (which whoever hears me let him or her set out in search of this day.)

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Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touch’d from,
The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer,
This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.

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Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son,
Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding,
No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them,
No more modest than immodest.

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Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth much? Have you practis’d so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

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Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth much? Have you practis’d so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

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Asking whether the reader is aware of his/her surrounding, of if they are only passively reading

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Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,) You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books, You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.

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Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,) You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books, You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.

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Stop acquiring knowledge from someone else's point of view
follow yourself