Sunday, January 28, 2007

Favourite Poem

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?

Walt Whitman (1819–1892)

I love this poem - but like any good work of art, i couldn't explain why.

Not sure whether or not this is copyright - i got it from a poster on the London Underground! If I need to acknowledge copyright or remove this please let me know.

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