"I celebrate myself, and sing myself,And what I assume you shall assumeFor every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loaf at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air,Born of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,I, now thirty-[three] years old in perfect health begin,Hoping to cease not until death."W.W.