.i“ * ^ / . . . . . ` `~

Song of Myself, 48 “And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud,/ And I or you pocketless of a dime may purchase the pick of the earth,/ And to glance with an eye or show a bean in its pod confounds the learning of all times, /And there is no trade or employment but the young man following it may become a hero…”

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