Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman


You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.


The unseen is proved by the seen.


I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you, and you must not be abased to the other.


Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord.


What groans of over-fed or half-starv’d who fall sunstruck or in fits.


Arrests of criminals, slights, adulterous offers made, acceptances, rejections with convex lips,
I mind them or the show or resonance of them – I come and I depart.
In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as forward sluing,
To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object missing,
Absorbing all to myself and for this song.
Of every hue and caste am I, of every rank and religion.

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