When I Compare Myself, My Being-myself, With

Horrible To Say, In A Manner I Am A Communist.

I Have Desired To Go Where Springs Not Fail, To Fields Where Flies No Sharp And Sided Hail And A Few Lilies Blow.

I Always Knew In My Heart Walt Whitman's Mind To Be More Like My Own Than Any Other Man's Living.

I Thought How Sadly Beauty Of Inscape Was Unknown And Buried Away From Simple People And Yet How Near At Hand It Was If They Had Eyes To See It And It Could Be Called Out Everywhere Again.

Glory Be To God For Dappled Things.