Song Of Myself, I

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
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.

by Walt Whitman

Comments (6)

Song Of Myself, a great poem for democracy, loved
The most fascinating persona of 19th century American literature introduces itself. The voice is simply impossible to ignore. Is the poem to follow 'too long'? We hope not.
First section, and introduction, to possibly the best modern American poem. Song of Myself, in full, captures the essence of Whitman's poetic vision. When I first read this poem I was captured by it from the very first line. Pure poetry. (Whitman's first version of Son of Myself published did not have the words and sing myself. I prefer the original version.)
Hardly one of his best poems. Puzzles me how they are selected. Sometimes I think PH just has their computers pick one at random.
Exalted sense of being and belonging. A profound poem.
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