Once, while reading in the shade,
I looked for something to mark my page,
So standing I took a delicate leaf
From the tree which I had sat beneath.
The leaf asked, small voice so grim,
"Why do you separate me from my kin?
All this world humans despise and scorn,
And our beauty they oft mar and deform."
"Do not be afraid," I replied,
"A new life for you I will decide,
For you were, among the trees, a leaf,
Now you will be, within a book, a leaf.
"In the pages of the 'Leaves of Grass,'
It will become clear that everything has
Love for you and all else here,
O leaf, small as any of us appear."