From the Song of the Open Road
Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the
open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading
wherever I choose.
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I
myself am good fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no
more, need nothing,
Down with indoor complaints, libraries,
querulous criticisms,
Strong and content, I travel the open
road.
The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any
nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong
to them.
(Still here I carry my old delicious
burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them
with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid
of them,
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill
them in return.)
Walt Whitman
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