Starting from fish-shape Paumanok where I was born, Well-begotten, and raisād by a perfect mother, After roaming many lands, lover of populous pavements, Dweller in Mannahatta my city, or on southern savannas, Or a soldier campād or carrying my knapsack and gun, or a miner in California, Or rude in my home in Dakotaās woods, my diet meat, my drink from the spring, Or withdrawn to muse and meditate in some deep recess, Far from the clank of crowds intervals passing rapt and happy, Aware of the fresh free giver the flowing Missouri,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-birdās tones and the flight of the mountain-hawk, And heard at dawn the unrivallād one, the hermit thrush from the swamp-cedars, Solitary, singing in the West, I strike up for a New World.
Starting from Paumanok
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