Poem by Walt Whitman

Leaves of Grass. 20. By the Roadside. 3. A Hand-Mirror

Hold it up sternly—see this it sends back, (who is it? is it you?)
Outside fair costume, within ashes and filth,
No more a flashing eye, no more a sonorous voice or springy step,
Now some slave's eye, voice, hands, step,
A drunkard's breath, unwholesome eater's face, venerealee's flesh,
Lungs rotting away piecemeal, stomach sour and cankerous,
Joints rheumatic, bowels clogged with abomination,
Blood circulating dark and poisonous streams,
Words babble, hearing and touch callous,
No brain, no heart left, no magnetism of sex;
Such from one look in this looking-glass ere you go hence,
Such a result so soon—and from such a beginning!

1. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 56. Old Age's Lambent Peaks
2. Leaves of Grass. 35. Good-Bye My Fancy. 13. Bravo, Paris Exposition!
3. Leaves of Grass. 30. Whispers of Heavenly Death. 7. Assurances
4. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 39. Life and Death
5. Leaves of Grass. 24. Autumn Rivulets. 36. With All Thy Gifts

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