Categories
Poetry

A Celebration to Life

I CELEBRATE myself;
 
And what I assume you shall assume;
For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you.
   
I loafe and invite my Soul;
I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of summer grass.
  
Houses and rooms are full of perfumes—the shelves are crowded with perfumes;
I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it;
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.
  
The atmosphere is not a perfume—it has no taste of the distillation—it is odorless;
It is for my mouth forever—I am in love with it;
I will go to the bank by the wood, and become undisguised and naked;
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

Walt Whitman wikipedia.org Leaves of Grass Bartleby.com

By thomas

Born in Copenhagen, Denmark. Master of Law from University of Copenhagen. A free and loving spirit roaming the world in joy and peace. The way is compassion and harmony.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.