The United States themselves are essentially the greatest poem.
But where is what I started for so long ago? And why is it yet unfound?
I lean and loaf at my ease... observing a spear of summer grass.
I dote on myself. There is a lot of me and all so luscious.
Now understand me well. It is provided in the essence of things that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary.
And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud.