To a Stranger

PASSING stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you, You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me, as of a dream,) I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you, All is recall'd as we flit by each other, fluid, affection- ate, chaste, matured, You grew up with me, were a boy with me, or a girl with me, I ate with you, and slept with you—your body has become not yours only, nor left my body mine only, You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass—you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return, I am not to speak to you—I am to think of you when I sit alone, or wake at night alone, I am to wait—I do not doubt I am to meet you again, I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

To a Stranger - fact Summary

From Leaves of Grass

This poem is included in Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. It takes the form of a direct address to an unknown passerby, fitting Whitman’s broader practice in Leaves of Grass of collapsing distance between poet and reader and celebrating democratic kinship. Knowing the poem’s placement in that collection helps readers expect an inclusive, conversational voice that treats a stranger as an equal and fellow American.

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