There Was a Child Went Forth Walt Whitman

There was a child went forth every day,
And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became,
And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part         of the day,
Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.

The early lilacs became part of this child,
And grass and white and red morning-glories, and white and red
        clover, and the song of the phoebe-bird,
And the Third-month lambs and the sow's pink-faint litter, and          the mare's foal and the cow's calf,
And the noisy brood of the barnyard or by the mire of the         pond-side,
And the fish suspending themselves so curiously below there, and         the beautiful curious liquid,
And the water-plants with their graceful flat heads, all became         part of him.

The field-sprouts of Fourth-month and Fifth-month became part         of him,
Winter-grain sprouts and those of the light-yellow corn, and the
        esculent roots of the garden,
And the apple-trees cover'd with blossoms and the fruit
        afterward, and wood-berries, and the commonest weeds by         the road,
And the old drunkard staggering home from the outhouse of the
        tavern whence he had lately risen,
And the schoolmistress that pass'd on her way to the school,
And the friendly boys that pass'd, and the quarrelsome boys,
And the tidy and fresh-cheek'd girls, and the barefoot negro boy         and girl,
And all the changes of city and country wherever he went.

His own parents, he that had father'd him and she that had
        conceiv'd him in her womb and birth'd him,
They gave this child more of themselves than that,
They gave him afterward every day, they became part of him.