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In numerous passages, by various figures and allegories, Whitman indicates that he would not have his book classed with the order of mere literary productions. "Shut not your doors to me, proud libraries," he says in one of the "Inscriptions," "For that which was lacking in all your well-fill'd shelves, yet needed most, I bring.
As when a panther by the spear transfixed does not remit her rage. And with his tail he lashes both his flanks and limbs. As some proud steed, at well-fill'd manger fed. As near a field of corn, a stubborn ass o'powers his boyish guides. As 'mid the thronging heifers in a herd Stands, proudly eminent, the lordly bull. As when the cuttlefish is dragged forth from his chamber.
That weight of wood, with leathern coat o'erlaid, Those ample clasps of solid metal made, The close-press'd leaves unoped for many an age, The dull red edging of the well-fill'd page, On the broad back the stubborn ridges roll'd, Where yet the title stands in tarnish'd gold.
That weight of wood, with leathern coat o'erlaid, Those ample clasps of solid metal made, The close-press'd leaves unoped for many an age, The dull red edging of the well-fill'd page, On the broad back the stubborn ridges roll'd, Where yet the title stands in tarnish'd gold.
That weight of wood, with leathern coat o'erlaid, Those ample clasps of solid metal made, The close-press'd leaves unoped for many an age, The dull red edging of the well-fill'd page, On the broad back the stubborn ridges roll'd, Where yet the title stands in tarnish'd gold.
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