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Chief broom

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I noticed someone had posted a Walt Whitman verse earlier 'Placid and self contained' which is a favourite of mine- the other is the following. I know this one off by heart and will probably be reciting it right at the end.......unless of course I get run over by a bus or summat  :D ps can a mod fix the font size-on preview was ok then shrunk!


A child said, What is the grass?

A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child?. . . .I do not know what it is any more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped,
Bearing the owners name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child. . . .the produced babe of the vegetation.

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them;
It may be you are from old people and from women, and from offspring
taken soon out of their mothers laps,
And here you are the mothers laps.

This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,
Darker than the colourless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues!
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.

What do you think has become of the young and old men?
What do you think has become of the women and
children?

They are alive and well somewhere;
The smallest sprouts show there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,
And ceased the moment life appeared.

All goes onward and outward. . . .and nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
 
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I wasn't into Whitman as much as other writers, but I did read quite a bit of "Leaves of Grass."  This one is my favorite.

Side note - when I read the title I was thinking of Whitman's Sampler..haha.  So, any piece of caramel covered in chocolate would be my favorite :)
 
Instantly recognisable as Whitman- what I find remarkable about his work is how his love of the world seems to be timeless as if he penned it right now and his presence is no way diminished by the years.
On initially reading this it sounded a little dangerous like an electric appliance which could catch fire!  :D

PS had to look up a Whitman Sampler -haven't seen these chocolates in the uk
 

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