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 | Leaves of grass (1872) |  |
17
35
To the tally of my soul,Loud and strong kept up the gray-brown bird,
With pure, deliberate notes, spreading, filling the night.
36
Loud in the pines and cedars dim,Clear in the freshness moist, and the swamp-perfume;
And I with my comrades there in the night.
37
While my sight that was bound in my eyes unclosed,As to long panoramas of visions.
| Leaves of grass (1872) | |