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I CELEBRATE myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs
 * to you.

I loafe and invite my Soul, I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of
 * summer grass.

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes—the shelves
 * are crowded with perfumes,

I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and
 * like it,

The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall
 * not let it.

The atmosphere is not a perfume—it has no taste of
 * the distillation, it is odorless,

It is for my mouth forever—I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood, and become
 * undisguised and naked,

I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

Rh