Poem by Walt Whitman

Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 9. My Canary Bird

Did we count great, O soul, to penetrate the themes of mighty books,
Absorbing deep and full from thoughts, plays, speculations?
But now from thee to me, caged bird, to feel thy joyous warble,
Filling the air, the lonesome room, the long forenoon,
Is it not just as great, O soul?

1. Leaves of Grass. 20. By the Roadside. 6. Thoughts
2. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 55. An Evening Lull
3. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. Fancies at Navesink. 6. Proudly the Flood Comes In
4. Leaves of Grass. 24. Autumn Rivulets. 12. Outlines for a Tomb [G. P., Buried 1870]
5. Leaves of Grass. 35. Good-Bye My Fancy. 6. Apparitions

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