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Leaves of Grass.

Here! lilac, with a branch of pine,
Here, out of my pocket, some moss which I pulled off
a live-oak in Florida, as it hung trailing down,
Here, some pinks and laurel leaves, and a handful of
sage,
And here what I now draw from the water, wading in
the pond-side,
(O here I last saw him that tenderly loves me—and
returns again, never to separate from me,
And this, O this shall henceforth be the token of
comrades—this calamus-root shall,
Interchange it, youths, with each other! Let none
render it back!)
And twigs of maple, and a bunch of wild orange, and
chestnut,
And stems of currants, and plum-blows, and the
aromatic cedar;
These I, compassed around by a thick cloud of
spirits,
Wandering, point to, or touch as I pass, or throw them
loosely from me,
Indicating to each one what he shall have—giving
something to each,
But what I drew from the water by the pond-side, that
I reserve,
I will give of it—but only to them that love, as I
myself am capable of loving.