Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman

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ROOTS and leaves themselves alone are these;

Scents brought to men and women from the wild
woods, and from the pond-side,

Breast-sorrel and pinks of love—fingers that wind
around tighter than vines,

Gushes from the throats of birds, hid in the foliage
of trees, as the sun is risen;

Breezes of land and love—breezes set from living
shores out to you on the living sea—to you,
O sailors!

Frost-mellow'd berries, and Third-month twigs,
offer'd fresh to young persons wandering out
in the fields when the winter breaks up,

Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever
you are,

Buds to be unfolded on the old terms;

If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they
will open, and bring form, color, perfume, to
you;

If you become the aliment and the wet, they will
become flowers, fruits, tall branches and trees.

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