I won’t lie – I haven’t really read anything by Walt Whitman. Or, if I have, it’s out of mind. This needs to change. The Guardian created a list of The 10 best American Poems that I recently stumbled across. Mr. Whitman tops the list. So, naturally, I clicked on the link to read Song of Myself. Wow. That’s all that I have to say. Oh, and that I’ll really need to read more of his work as soon as possible.
Song of Myself (sneak peek)
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 loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.
The poem is long. So, please visit this link to the page at Princeton.edu to enjoy the entire piece.