Walt Whitman

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

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2

 Behold this compost! behold it well!
 Perhaps every mite has once form'd part of a sick person--yet behold!
 The grass of spring covers the prairies,
 The bean bursts noiselessly through the mould in the garden,
 The delicate spear of the onion pierces upward,
 The apple-buds cluster together on the apple-branches,
 The resurrection of the wheat appears with pale visage out of its graves,
 The tinge awakes over the willow-tree and the mulberry-tree,
 The he-birds carol mornings and evenings while the she-birds sit on
 their nests,
 The young of poultry break through the hatch'd eggs,
 The new-born of animals appear, the calf is dropt from the cow, the
 colt from the mare,
 Out of its little hill faithfully rise the potato's dark green leaves,
 Out of its hill rises the yellow maize-stalk, the lilacs bloom in
 the dooryards,
 The summer growth is innocent and disdainful above all those strata
 of sour dead.
 
 What chemistry!
 That the winds are really not infectious,
 That this is no cheat, this transparent green-wash of the (...)
(......)