It's August, Ya'll

WALT WHITMAN, LEAVES OF GRASS

I know I am solid and sound,

To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow,
All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.



I know I am deathless,
I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter's compass,
I know I shall not pass like a child's carlacue cut with a burnt
stick at night.



I know I am august,

I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood,

I see that the elementary laws never apologize,


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.