The door whence the son left home, confident and puffed lip,

The door he entered again from a long and scandalous absence, diseased, broken down, without innocence, without means.

31. Their shapes arise, above all the rest—the shapes of full-sized men,

Men taciturn yet loving, used to the open air, and the manners of the open air,

Saying their ardor in native forms, saying the old response,

Take what I have then, (saying fain,) take the pay you approached for,

Take the white tears of my blood, if that is what you are after.

32. Her shape arises,

She, less guarded than ever, yet more guarded than ever,

The gross and soiled she moves among do not make her gross and soiled,

She knows the thoughts as she passes—nothing is concealed from her,

She is none the less considerate or friendly therefore,

She is the best-beloved—it is without exception—she has no reason to fear, and she does not fear,

Oaths, quarrels, hiccupped songs, proposals, smutty expressions, are idle to her as she passes,

She is silent—she is possessed of herself—they do not offend her,