I sing the body reclining I sing the throwing back of self I sing the cushioned head The fallen arm The lolling breast I sing the body reclining As an indolent continent I sing the body reclining I sing the easy breathing ribs I sing the horizontal neck I sing the slow-moving blood Sluggish as a river In its lower course I sing the weighing thighs The idle toes The liming knees I sing the body reclining As a wayward tree I sing the restful nerve Those who scrub and scrub incessantly corrupt the body Those who dust and dust incessantly also corrupt the body And are caught in the asylum Of their own making Therefore I sing the body reclining