From
Leaves of Grass, by
Walt Whitman:
Trickle drops! my blue
veins leaving!
O drops of me! trickle, slow drops,
Candid from me falling, drip, bleeding drops,
From
wounds made to free you whence you were prison'd,
From my face, from my
forehead and lips,
From my breast, from within where I was conceal'd, press
forth red drops,
confession drops,
Stain every page, stain every song I sing, every word I say,
bloody drops,
Let them know your
scarlet heat, let them
glisten,
Saturate them with yourself all ashamed and wet,
Glow upon all I have written or shall write, bleeding drops,
Let it all be seen in your light, blushing drops.