Song of Myself, I loafe and ask my soul, we lean and loafe inside my simplicity watching a spear of summer time grass.
By Walt Whitman We celebrate myself, and sing myself, And the things I assume you shall assume, for virtually any atom owned by me personally as good belongs for your requirements. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd out of this soil, this fresh atmosphere, created right right here of moms and dads created right right right here from moms and dads exactly the same, and their parents the exact same, we, now thirty-seven…