Song of Myself - Pg 40

Behaviour lawless as snow-flakes . . . . words simple as grass . . . .
        uncombed head and laughter and naivete;
Slowstepping feet and the common features, and the common modes
        and emanations,
They descend in new forms from the tips of his fingers,
They are wafted with the odor of his body or breath . . . . they fly out of the glance of his eyes.