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This is the meal equally set, this the meat for natural hunger,It is for the wicked just the same as the righteous, I make appointments with all,I will not have a single person slighted or left away,The kept-woman, sponger, thief, are hereby invited,The heavy-lipp’d slave is invited, the venerealee is invited;There shall be no difference between them and the rest.
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.