Dying Veteran
Orange Buds by Mail from Florida
You Lingering Sparse Leaves of Me
Not Meagre, Latent Boughs Alone
Sail out for Good, Eidolon Yacht!
On, on the Same, Ye Jocund Twain!
Old Age’s Ship & Crafty Death’s
The Rounded Catalogue Divine Complete
LEAVES OF GRASS
Come, said my soul,
Such verses for my Body let us write, (for we are one,)
That should I after return,
Or, long, long hence, in other spheres,
There to some group of mates the chants resuming,
(Tallying Earth’s soil, trees, winds, tumultuous waves,)
Ever with pleas’d smile I may keep on,
Ever and ever yet the verses owning — as, first, I here and now
Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my name,
