 | Leaves of grass. |  |
v
INSCRIPTION.
SMALL
is the theme of the following Chant, yet the
greatest
— namely,
ONE'S-SELF — that wondrous
thing, a simple,
separate person. That, for the
use of the New
World, I sing.
Man's physiology complete, from top to toe, I sing. Not physiognomy alone, nor brain alone, is worthy for the muse; — I say the Form complete is worthier far. The female equally with the male, I sing.
Nor cease at the theme of One's-Self. I speak the word of the modern, the word EN-MASSE.
My Days I sing, and the Lands — with interstice I knew of hapless War.
O friend, whoe'er you are, at last arriving hither to com- mence, I feel through every leaf the pressure of your hand, which I return. And thus upon our journey link'd together let us go.
Man's physiology complete, from top to toe, I sing. Not physiognomy alone, nor brain alone, is worthy for the muse; — I say the Form complete is worthier far. The female equally with the male, I sing.
Nor cease at the theme of One's-Self. I speak the word of the modern, the word EN-MASSE.
My Days I sing, and the Lands — with interstice I knew of hapless War.
O friend, whoe'er you are, at last arriving hither to com- mence, I feel through every leaf the pressure of your hand, which I return. And thus upon our journey link'd together let us go.
| Leaves of grass. | |