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Walt Whitman - Inscription.

SMALL is the theme of the following Chant, yet the greatest—namely,
	One’s-Self—that wondrous thing a simple, separate person. That, for the use of
    the
	New World, I sing. 
Man’s physiology complete, from top to toe, I sing. Not physiognomy alone, nor brain
	alone, is worthy for the muse;—I say the Form complete is worthier far. The female
    equal
	with the male, I sing, 
Nor cease at the theme of One’s-Self. I speak the word of the modern, the word
    En-Masse: 
My Days I sing, and the Lands—with interstice I knew of hapless War. 
  
O friend whoe’er you are, at last arriving hither to commence, I feel through every
    leaf
	the pressure of your hand, which I return. And thus upon our journey link’d together
    let
	us go.

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Inscription. - Comments and Information

Poet: Walt Whitman
Poem: 22. Inscription.
Volume: Leaves of Grass
- 22. Gathered Leaves
Year: Published/Written in 1900
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