A sudden, raw impulse seizes Whitman’s speaker in “Native Moments.” He doesn’t want polite pleasures—he demands “libidinous joys only,” the full drench of his passions, a life that is coarse and rank. He announces he will spend the day and night with “nature’s darlings,” join the midnight orgies of young men, dance, drink, and let their indecent calls echo. He chooses a prostitute for love and a “low person”—someone rude, illiterate, condemned by others—as his dearest friend. There’s a fierce refusal to pretend anymore; he’s tired of exiling himself from the companions he really wants. In a final, inclusive cry, he turns to all those who are shunned, promising to be their poet and to belong to them more than to anyone else. The mood is one of defiant liberation, a celebration of unfiltered desire and solidarity with outcasts, carried by an almost ecstatic urgency to break free of respectability.
Native Moments. — Summary
NATIVE moments! when you come upon me—Ah you are here now! Give me now libidinous joys only! Give me the drench of my passions! Give me life coarse and rank! To-day, I go consort with nature’s darlings—to-night too; I am for those who believe in loose delights—I share the midnight orgies of young men; I dance with the dancers, and drink with the drinkers; The echoes ring with our indecent calls; I take for my love some prostitute—I pick out some low person for my dearest friend, He shall be lawless, rude, illiterate—he shall be one condemn’d by others for deeds done; I will play a part no longer—Why should I exile myself from my companions? O you shunn’d persons! I at least do not shun you, I come forthwith in your midst—I will be your poet, I will be more to you than to any of the rest.