Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman

Leaves of Grass (1867)

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INSCRIPTION.

SMALL is the theme of the following Chant, yet the
          greatest—namely, ONE'S-SELF— that wondrous
          thing, a simple, separate person. That, for the
          use of the New World, I sing .

Man's physiology complete, from top to toe, I sing. Not
          physiognomy alone, nor brain alone, is worthy for
          the muse;—I say the Form complete is worthier
          far. The female equally with the male, I sing .

Nor cease at the theme of One's-Self. I speak the word
of the modern, the word EN-MASSE.

My Days I sing, and the Lands—with interstice I knew
of hapless War .

O friend, whoe'er you are, at last arriving hither to com-
          mence, I feel through every leaf the pressure of
          your hand, which I return. And thus upon our
          journey link'd together let us go .

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