Leaves of Grass

by Walt Whitman

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.

after all.) I exist as I am, that is enough, If no other in the world be aware I sit content, And if each and all be aware I sit content.

I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey work of the stars,

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

O madly the sea pushes upon the land, With love, with love. O night! do I not see my love fluttering out among the breakers? What is that little black thing I see there in the white? Loud! loud! loud! Loud I call to you, my love! High and clear I shoot my voice over the waves, Surely you must know who is here, is here, You must know who I am, my love. Low-hanging moon! What is that dusky spot in your brown yellow? O it is the shape, the shape of my mate.’ O moon do not keep her from me any longer.

O darkness! O in vain! O I am very sick and sorrowful O brown halo in the sky near the moon, drooping upon the sea! O troubled reflection in the sea! O throat! O throbbing heart! And I singing uselessly, uselessly all the night. O past! O happy life! O songs of joy!