Small the Theme of My Chant
( FROM THE 1867 EDITION OF Leaves of Grass )
Small the theme of my Chant, yet the greatest — namely, One's-Self — 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 equally 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, footing the road, and more than once, and link'd together let us go.)
Small the theme of my Chant, yet the greatest — namely, One's-Self — 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 equally 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, footing the road, and more than once, and link'd together let us go.)
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