} O Hymen!  O Hymenee!

O hymen!  O hymenee! why do you tantalize me thus? 
O why sting me for a swift moment only? 
Why can you not continue?  O why do you now cease? 
Is it because if you continued beyond the swift moment you would
    soon certainly kill me?

} I Am He That Aches with Love

I am he that aches with amorous love;
Does the earth gravitate? does not all matter, aching, attract all matter? 
So the body of me to all I meet or know.

} Native Moments

Native moments—­when you come upon me—­ah you are here now,
Give me now libidinous joys only,
Give me the drench of my passions, give me life coarse and rank,
To-day I go consort with Nature’s darlings, to-night too,
I am for those who believe in loose delights, I share the midnight
    orgies of young men,
I dance with the dancers and drink with the drinkers,
The echoes ring with our indecent calls, I pick out some low person
    for my dearest friend,
He shall be lawless, rude, illiterate, he shall be one condemn’d by
    others for deeds done,
I will play a part no longer, why should I exile myself from my companions? 
O you shunn’d persons, I at least do not shun you,
I come forthwith in your midst, I will be your poet,
I will be more to you than to any of the rest.

} Once I Pass’d Through a Populous City

Once I pass’d through a populous city imprinting my brain for future
    use with its shows, architecture, customs, traditions,
Yet now of all that city I remember only a woman I casually met
    there who detain’d me for love of me,
Day by day and night by night we were together—­all else has long
    been forgotten by me,
I remember I say only that woman who passionately clung to me,
Again we wander, we love, we separate again,
Again she holds me by the hand, I must not go,
I see her close beside me with silent lips sad and tremulous.

} I Heard You Solemn-Sweet Pipes of the Organ

I heard you solemn-sweet pipes of the organ as last Sunday morn I
    pass’d the church,
Winds of autumn, as I walk’d the woods at dusk I heard your long-
    stretch’d sighs up above so mournful,
I heard the perfect Italian tenor singing at the opera, I heard the
    soprano in the midst of the quartet singing;
Heart of my love! you too I heard murmuring low through one of the
    wrists around my head,
Heard the pulse of you when all was still ringing little bells last
    night under my ear.

} Facing West from California’s Shores

Facing west from California’s shores,
Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound,
I, a child, very old, over waves, towards the house of maternity,
    the land of migrations, look afar,
Look off the shores of my Western sea, the circle almost circled;
For starting westward from Hindustan, from the vales