The whole theory of the universe is directed unerringly to one single individual.
The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night, Ya-honk! he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation: The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listen closer, I find its purpose and place up there toward the November sky.
Clear and sweet is my soul, clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
Behold I do not give lectures or a little charity, When I give I give myself.
The sum of all known value and respect, I add up in you, whoever you are.
This is the city, and I am one of the citizens/Whatever interests the rest interests me