You will hardly know who I am, or what I mean īut I shall be good health to you nevertheless,įailing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged Įxcerpted from 'Song of Myself,' in Leaves of Grass. If you want me again, look for me under your boot-soles. I bequeathe myself to the dirt, to grow from the grass I love I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags. I depart as air-I shake my white locks at the runaway sun It flings my likeness after the rest, and true as any, on the shadow’d wilds I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world. If you like the idea of listening along to a story or poem, why not come along to a Shared Reading group? We run groups across the UK, you can find one near you here.I too am not a bit tamed-I too am untranslatable Would you like the opportunity to read this or other poems in a Shared Reading group? I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,

I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,īorn here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. I felt sucked into that pause after check – both a stop and a release? Is that what loafing can be like? I’m determined to attempt to 'lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass', in the hope that it might energise me anew.įor every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. Nature without check with original energy. There is so much to ponder in this rich poem.Īfterwards I found myself keep returning to the final line: It feels hard to celebrate ourselves sometimes. She had been too reticent about highlighting her own achievements and, lacking confidence in her own ability, her potential employers had assumed the same. It reminded one reader in the group of a recent, unsuccessful, job interview. I'm wondering what might prompt such behaviour and whether it meant singing about ourselves or to ourselves and indeed what was the relationship between the 'I' and the 'you'? Indeed it’s very much a poem that demands to be listened to with care – those fabulous alliterative rhythmic lines: 'Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same.'įor every atom belonging to me as good as belongs to you. So, we went for an immediate second reading, in a different “tongue” as someone pointed out. I know I was really struggling to know where to start. There was a longer than usual silence after we finished reading aloud this wonderful Whitman poem: as though we were struggling to “permit” ourselves “to speak at every hazard” without quite knowing what those hazards might be. The Reader's Learning and Quality Leader, Amanda Boston, shares her thoughts on this week's Featured Poem, from Song for Myself by Walt Whitman.

A song about myself poem