let some past deceived one hiss in your ears, how

many have prest on the same as you are pressing now,

How many have fondly supposed what you are sup- posing now — only to be disappointed.

Calamus taste,

(For I must change the strain — these are not to be pensive leaves, but leaves of joy,)

Roots and leaves unlike any but themselves.

Scents brought to men and women from the wild woods, and from the pond-side,

Breast-sorrel and pinks of love — fingers that wind around tighter than vines.

Gushes from the throats of birds, hid in the foliage of trees, as the sun is risen,

Breezes of land and love — Breezes set from lining shores out to you on the living sea — to you, sailors !

Frost-mellowed berries, and Third Month twigs, offered fresh to young persons wandering out in the fields when the winter breaks up,

Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever you are.

Buds to be unfolded on the old terms,

If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they will open, and bring form, color, perfume, to you,

If you become the aliment and the wet, they will become flowers, fruits, tall branches and trees,