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264
Leaves of Grass.

To go to battle! to hear the bugles play, and the drums
beat!
To hear the artillery! to see the glittering of the bayonets
and musket-barrels in the sun!
To see men fall and die and not complain!
To taste the savage taste of blood! to be so devilish!
To gloat so over the wounds and deaths of the enemy.

24.O the whaleman's joys! I cruise my old cruise
again!
I feel the ship's motion under me—I feel the Atlantic
breezes fanning me,
I hear the cry again sent down from the mast-head,
There she blows,
Again I spring up the rigging, to look with the rest—
We see—we descend, wild with excitement,
I leap in the lowered boat—We row toward our prey,
where he lies,
We approach, stealthy and silent—I see the mountainous
mass, lethargic, basking,
I see the harpooner standing up—I see the weapon
dart from his vigorous arm;
O swift, again, now, far out in the ocean, the wounded
whale, settling, running to windward, tows me,
Again I see him rise to breathe—We row close
again,
I see a lance driven through his side, pressed deep,
turned in the wound.
Again we back off—I see him settle again—the life
is leaving him fast.
As he rises, he spouts blood—I see him swim in circles
narrower and narrower, swiftly cutting the
water—I see him die,