Walt Whitman: Starting from Paumanok, Part 1

Part 1

Starting from fish-shape Paumanok where I was born, Well-begotten, and rais'd by a perfect mother, After roaming many lands, lover of populous pavements, Dweller in Mannahatta my city, or on southern savannas, Or a soldier camp'd or carrying my knapsack and gun, or a miner      in California, Or rude in my home in Dakota's woods, my diet meat, my drink from      the spring, Or withdrawn to muse and meditate in some deep recess, Far from the clank of crowds intervals passing rapt and happy, Aware of the fresh free giver the flowing Missouri, aware of      mighty Niagara, Aware of the buffalo herds grazing the plains, the hirsute and     strong-breasted bull, Of earth, rocks, Fifth-month flowers experienced, stars, rain, snow,     my amaze, Having studied the mocking-bird's tones and the flight of the     mountain-hawk, And heard at dawn the unrivall'd one, the hermit thrush from the     swamp-cedars, Solitary, singing in the West, I strike up for a New World.