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1

1   O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman!
Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds!
Such join'd unended links, each hook'd to the next!
Each answering all — each sharing the earth with all.
2  What widens within you, Walt Whitman?
What waves and soils exuding?
What climes? what persons and lands are here?
Who are the infants? some playing, some slumbering?
Who are the girls? who are the married women?
Who are the three old men going slowly with their      arms about each others' necks?
What rivers are these? what forests and fruits are      these?
What are the mountains call'd that rise so high in the      mists?
What myriads of dwellings are they, fill'd with      dewellers?