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WALT WHITMAN.
1.I CELEBRATE myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs
to you.
2.I loafe and invite my Soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of
summer grass.
3.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.
4.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.
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