Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman

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NO labor-saving machine,

Nor discovery have I made,

Nor will I be able to leave behind me any wealthy bequest to
found a hospital or library,

Nor reminiscence of any deed of courage for America,

Nor literary success nor intellect, nor book for the book-shelf,

But a few carols vibrating through the air I leave,

For comrades and lovers.

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