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LEAVES OF GRASS

A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;

How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any 
       more than he.

 

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green 
       stuff woven.

 

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,

A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,

Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may 
       see and remark, and say Whose?

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