And your very flesh shall be a great poem.
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death.
I swear to you, there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell
I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I know I am deathless…We have thus far exhausted trillions of winters and summers, There are trillions ahead, and trillions ahead of them.
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable.
The powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.
Whatever satisfies the soul is truth.
Do anything, but let it produce joy.
If you want me again look for me under your boot soles.
Give me solitude, give me Nature, give me again O Nature your primal sanities!
These are the days that must happen to you.
Give me the splendid, silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling.
And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral d rest in his shroud.
A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.
I will sleep no more but arise, You oceans that have been calm within me! how I feel you, fathomless, stirring, preparing unprecedented waves and storms.
I am satisfied … I see, dance, laugh, sing.
Clear and sweet is my soul, clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
A great city is that which has the greatest men and women.
I am too not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.