Song of Myself — Section 9
Song of Myself — Section 9
Walt Whitman
The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready,
The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon,
The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged,
The armfuls are pack’d to the sagging mow.
I am there, I help, I came stretch’d atop of the load,
I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other,
I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy,
And roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps.
Verse breaks and indentation are preserved. Wrapped lines have a hanging indent. Width adapts to your screen.
Complete poem text from the cited public-domain source edition.
Read the original source ↗
