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Poem by Walt Whitman Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 8. As I Sit Writing Here As I sit writing here, sick and grown old, Not my least burden is that dulness of the years, querilities, Ungracious glooms, aches, lethargy, constipation, whimpering ennui, May filter in my dally songs. Walt Whitman Walt Whitman's other poems:
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