THE business man, the acquirer vast,
After assiduous years, surveying results, preparing for departure,
Devises houses and lands to his childrenbequeaths stocks, goodsfunds for a
school
or hospital,
Leaves money to certain companions to buy tokens, souvenirs of gems and gold;
Parceling out with careAnd then, to prevent all cavil,
His name to his testament formally signs.
But I, my life surveying,
With nothing to show, to devise, from its idle years,
Nor houses, nor landsnor tokens of gems or gold for my friends,
Only these Souvenirs of DemocracyIn themin all my songsbehind me
leaving,
To You, who ever you are, (bathing, leavening this leaf especially with my
breathpressing
on it a moment with my own hands;
Here! feel how the pulse beats in my wrists!how my hearts-blood is
swelling,
contracting!)
I will You, in all, Myself, with promise to never desert you,
To which I sign my name.
Souvenirs of Democracy.
written byWalt Whitman
© Walt Whitman