You sing yourself Walt Whitman

I celebrate myself, and sing myself-
And what I assume you shall Assume
For every Atom belonging to me as good belongs to you
I loafe myself invite myself
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass
My tongue, every atom of my blood form'd from this Soil, this air
Born here of parents born here from parents the same
I, now thirty seven years old in perfect health again
Hoping to not cease till death
creeds and schools in Abeyance
retiring back a while sufficed at what they are but never forgotten
I harbor for good or bad I permit to speak at every hazard
nature without check with original energy