Out From Behind His Mask

W Walt Whitman Walt Whitman
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OUT from behind this bending, rough-cut Mask, (All straighter, liker Masks rejected--this preferr'd,) This common curtain of the face, contain'd in me for me, in you for you, in each for each, (Tragedies, sorrows, laughter, tears--O heaven! The passionate, teeming plays this curtain hid!) This glaze of God's serenest, purest sky, This film of Satan's seething pit, This heart's geography's map--this limitless small continent--this soundless sea; Out from the convolutions of this globe, This subtler astronomic orb than sun or moon--than Jupiter, Venus, Mars; 10 This condensation of the Universe--(nay, here the only Universe, Here the IDEA--all in this mystic handful wrapt;) These burin'd eyes, flashing to you, to pass to future time, To launch and spin through space revolving, sideling--from these to emanate, To You, whoe'er you are--a Look. A Traveler of thoughts and years--of peace and war, Of youth long sped, and middle age declining, (As the first volume of a tale perused and laid away, and this the second, Songs, ventures, speculations, presently to close,) Lingering a moment, here and now, to You I opposite turn, 20 As on the road, or at some crevice door, by chance, or open'd window, Pausing, inclining, baring my head, You specially I greet, To draw and clench your Soul, for once, inseparably with mine, Then travel, travel on.

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