Are you so earnest, so given up to literature, science, art, amours?
These eager business aims—books, politics, art, amours, To utter nothingness?
I bring what you much need yet always have, Not money, amours, dress, eating, erudition, but as good, I send no agent or medium, offer no representative of value, but offer the value itself.
7 A show of the summer softness—a contact of something unseen—an amour of the light and air, I am jealous and overwhelm’d with friendliness, And will go gallivant with the light and air myself.
Away with novels, plots and plays of foreign courts, Away with love-verses sugar’d in rhyme, the intrigues, amours of idlers, Fitted for only banquets of the night where dancers to late music slide, The unhealthy pleasures, extravagant dissipations of the few, With perfumes, heat and wine, beneath the dazzling chandeliers.
I see the long river-stripes of the earth, I see the Amazon and the Paraguay, I see the four great rivers of China, the Amour, the Yellow River, the Yiang-tse, and the Pearl, I see where the Seine flows, and where the Danube, the Loire, the Rhone, and the Guadalquiver flow, I see the windings of the Volga, the Dnieper, the Oder, I see the Tuscan going down the Arno, and the Venetian along the Po, I see the Greek seaman sailing out of Egina bay.
…citizens, The pure, extravagant, yearning, questioning artist’s face, The ugly face of some beautiful soul, the handsome detested or despised face, The sacred faces of infants, the illuminated face of the mother of many children, The face of an amour, the face of veneration, The face as of a dream, the face of an immobile rock, The face withdrawn of its good and bad, a castrated face, A wild hawk, his wings clipp’d by the clipper, A stallion that yielded at last to the thongs and knife…