Song of Myself
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me
as good belongs to you.
Clear and sweet is my soul,
and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
Welcome is every organ and attribute of me,
and of any (wo)man* hearty and clean,
Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile,
and none shall be less familiar than the rest.
I am satisfied—I see, dance, laugh, sing;
In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less,
And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.
I know I am solid and sound
I exist as I am, that is enough
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content
Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
Song Of Myself (full poem)
*[punctation ( ) mine]