Walt Whitman (1819–1892). Leaves of Grass. 1900.
222. Who Learns My Lesson Complete?
W
Boss, journeyman, apprentice—churchman and atheist,
The stupid and the wise thinker—parents and offspring—merchant, clerk, porter and customer,
Editor, author, artist, and schoolboy—Draw nigh and commence;
It is no lesson—it lets down the bars to a good lesson,
And that to another, and every one to another still.
I am of the same style, for I am their friend,
I love them quits and quits—I do not halt, and make salaams.
They are so beautiful, I nudge myself to listen.
I do not think it was made in six days, nor in ten thousand years, nor ten billions of years,
Nor plann’d and built one thing after another, as an architect plans and builds a house.
Nor that seventy millions of years is the time of a man or woman,
Nor that years will ever stop the existence of me, or any one else.
I know it is wonderful, but my eyesight is equally wonderful, and how I was conceived in my mother’s womb is equally wonderful;
And pass’d from a babe, in the creeping trance of a couple of summers and winters, to articulate and walk—All this is equally wonderful.
And that I can remind you, and you think them, and know them to be true, is just as wonderful.
And that they balance themselves with the sun and stars, is equally wonderful.