From
Leaves of Grass, by
Walt Whitman:
No
labor-saving
machine,
Nor
discovery have I made,
Nor will I be able to leave behind me any wealthy
bequest to
found a
hospital or
library,
Nor reminiscence of any deed of
courage for
America,
Nor literary success nor
intellect, nor book for the book-shelf,
But a few
carols vibrating through the air I leave,
For
comrades and
lovers.