“I am not contain'd between my hat and my boots.”

“I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd babe, and am not contained between my hat and my boots,”

“A simple separate person is not contained between his hat and his boots.”

“I wear my hat as I please, indoors or out.”

“I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.”

“The last scud of day holds back for me, It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow'd wilds, It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, But I shall be good health to your nevertheless,And filter and fibre your blood.Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,Missing me one place, search another,I stop somewhere waiting for you.”

“I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I loveIf you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.You will hardly know who I am or what I meanBut I shall be good health to you nonethelessAnd filter and fibre your blood.”