Читать книгу We Were the Mulvaneys - Joyce Carol Oates - Страница 6

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged.Missing me one place search another,I stop some where waiting for you.

from Walt Whitman, Song of Myself