Song Of Myself ~ Walt Whitman

Ray FL


I bequeath myself to the dirt 
to grow from the grass I love
If you want me again 
look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am and what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encourage
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.

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