One's-Self I Sing

One's-self I sing, a simple separate person,
Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse.

Of physiology 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 equally with the Male I sing.

Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power,
Cheerful, for freest action form'd under the laws divine,
The Modern Man I sing.

More poems by Walt Whitman

To Thee Old Cause

To thee old cause! / Thou peerless, passionate, good cause,

Walt Whitman

Queries to My Seventieth Year

Approaching, nearing, curious, / Thou dim, uncertain spectre--bringest thou life or death?

Walt Whitman

The Pallid Wreath

Somehow I cannot let it go yet, funeral though it is, / Let it remain back there on its nail suspended,

Walt Whitman

Hush'd Be the Camps To-Day [May 4, 1865]

Hush'd be the camps to-day, / And soldiers let us drape our war-worn weapons,

Walt Whitman

All poems by Walt Whitman →