Saturday, May 10, 2008

I celebrate myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul
I lean and loafe at my ease...observing a spear of summer
grass.
You sea! I resign myself to you also....I guess what you mean,
I behold from the beach your crooked inviting fingers,
I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me;


We must have a turn together....I undress....hurry me out of sight of the land,

Cushion me soft....rock me in billowy drowse,
Dash me with amorous wet....

I can repay you. (Whitman, "Song of Myself," 1855)

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