O TAN-FACED prairie-boy!
Before you came to camp, came many a welcome gift;
Praises and presents came, and nourishing food--till at last, among
the recruits,
You came, taciturn, with nothing to give--we but look'd on each
other,
When lo! more than all the gifts of the world, you gave me.
More verses by Walt Whitman
- Whispers Of Heavenly Death
- The Runner
- So Long
- Facing West From California's Shores
- Song Of The Universal