A Poem For Saturday

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From “Song of Myself” (1867) by Walt Whitman:

I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and
self-contain’d;
I stand and look at them long and long.

They do not sweat and whine about their condition,
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God:
Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning
things,
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago,
Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.

(Photo of Whitman holding a butterfly from the 1889 edition of Leaves of Grass)