Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен)

Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 34. Small the Theme of My Chant

Small the theme of my Chant, yet the greatest—namely, One's-Self—
      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 commence, I
      feel through every leaf the pressure of your hand, which I return.
And thus upon our journey, footing the road, and more than once, and
      link'd together let us go.)

1. Leaves of Grass. 21. Drum-Taps. 37. Delicate Cluster
2. Leaves of Grass. 5. Calamus. 15. City of Orgies
3. Leaves of Grass. 5. Calamus. 21. The Prairie-Grass Dividing
4. Leaves of Grass. 5. Calamus. 28. A Leaf for Hand in Hand
5. Leaves of Grass. 21. Drum-Taps. 7. Virginia—The West

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