xcix. Live oak, with moss

Calamus-Leaves.  Live Oak, with Moss.

           I. 

Not the heat flames up and consumes, 
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, consuming, burning for 
          his love whom I love—O none, more 
          than I,  hurrying in and out; 
Does the tide hurry, seeking something, and 
          never give up?—O I, the same, to
          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.—

II. I saw in Louisiana a live-oak growing,  All alone stood it, and the moss hung down            from the branches,  Without any companion it grew there,            glistening out with 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,

It is not needed to remind me as of my            friends, (for I believe lately I think of           little else than of them,)  Yet it remains to me a curious token - it             makes me think of manly love, I write         these              pieces and name them after it ;  For all that, and though the treelive oak            glistens there in Louisiana, 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.           III. When I heard at the close of the day how I            had been praised in the Capitol, still it            was not a happy night for me that            followed;  And else Nor when I caroused — Or  —Nor^when my  ^favorite plans were            accomplished — it was I really happy,             was well enough — Still I was not            happy;  But the the theat^ thatday when whenI rose at           dawn from the bed of perfect health,            electric, inhaling 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,And when I thought how my friend, my lover,          was coming, then O^ I was happy;  O tThen eEach 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, at evening, came my friend,  And that night, while all was still, I heard the            waters roll slowly continually up the            shores  I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid 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 inclined towards            me, while the moon's clear beams            shone, And his arm lay lightly over my            breast—And that night I was happy.

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http://www.whitmanarchive.org/manuscripts/liveoak.html