I'm a paragraph. Click here to add your own text and edit me. I’m a great place for you to tell a story and let your users know a little more about you.

 

I sing the body electric; 

The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them; 

They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them, 

And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the Soul. 

  

Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves;         

And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead? 

And if the body does not do as much as the Soul? 

And if the body were not the Soul, what is the Soul? 

 

The love of the Body of man or woman balks account—the body itself balks account; 

That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect. 

  

The expression of the face balks account; 

But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face; 

It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists; 

It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees—dress does not hide him;

 

-From leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman

 

I'm a paragraph. Click here to add your own text and edit me. I’m a great place for you to tell a story and let your users know a little more about you.

This site was designed with the
.com
website builder. Create your website today.
Start Now