Walt Whitman

LEAVES OF GRASS
(1891-92 issue)
complete book, e-book

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3

 The sun and stars that float in the open air,
 The apple-shaped earth and we upon it, surely the drift of them is
 something grand,
 I do not know what it is except that it is grand, and that it is happiness,
 And that the enclosing purport of us here is not a speculation or
 bon-mot or reconnoissance,
 And that it is not something which by luck may turn out well for us,
 and without luck must be a failure for us,
 And not something which may yet be retracted in a certain contingency.
 
 The light and shade, the curious sense of body and identity, the
 greed that with perfect complaisance devours all things,
 The endless pride and outstretching of man, unspeakable joys and sorrows,
 The wonder every one sees in every one else he sees, and the wonders
 that fill each minute of time forever,
 What have you reckon'd them for, camerado?
 Have you reckon'd them for your trade or farm-work? or for the
 profits of your store?
 Or to achieve yourself a position? or to fill a gentleman's leisure,
 or a lady's leisure?
 
 Have you reckon'd that the landscape took substance and form that it
 might be painted in a picture?
 Or men and women that they might be written of, and songs (...)
(......)