Walt Whitman Poems

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WHAT you give me, I cheerfully accept,
A little sustenance, a hut and garden, a little money—these, as I rendezvous with my
poems;
A traveler’s lodging and breakfast as I journey through The States—Why should I
be
ashamed to own such gifts? Why to advertise for them?
For I myself am not one who bestows nothing upon man and woman;
For I bestow upon any man or woman the entrance to all the gifts of the universe.

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