Small the Theme of My ChantSmall 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 completeis worthier far. The Female equally with the Male, I sing.Nor cease at the theme of One’s-Self. I speak the word of themodern, 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, Ifeel through every leaf the pressure of your hand, which I return.And thus upon our journey, footing the road, and more than once, andlink’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 completeis worthier far. The Female equally with the Male, I sing.Nor cease at the theme of One’s-Self. I speak the word of themodern, 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, Ifeel through every leaf the pressure of your hand, which I return.And thus upon our journey, footing the road, and more than once, andlink’d together let us go.)