Poetry: Leaves of Grass

by Walt Whitman

A few light kisses . . . a few embraces . . . a reaching around of arms,
The play of shine and shade on the tress as the supple bows wag,
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and
hillsides,
The feeling of health . . . the full-noon trill . . . the song of me rising from bed
and meeting the sun.

*note: Leaves of Grass is far too long to post (117 pages) so I figure we will hit the high-points from time-to time*