Book XXIV. Autumn Rivulets: What Am I After All
What am I, after all, but a child, pleas’d with the sound of my own
name? repeating it over and over;
I stand apart to hear—it never tires me.
To you, your name also;
Did you think there was nothing but two or three pronunciations in
the sound of your name?
Other works by Walt Whitman...
