What Am I, After All?

Walt Whitman

   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?

Next 10 Poems

• Walt Whitman : What Best I See In Thee
• Walt Whitman : What General Has A Good Army
• Walt Whitman : What Place Is Besieged?
• Walt Whitman : What Think You I Take My Pen In Hand?
• Walt Whitman : What Weeping Face
• Walt Whitman : When I Heard At The Close Of The Day
• Walt Whitman : When I Heard The Learn'd Astronomer
• Walt Whitman : When I Peruse The Conquer'd Fame
• Walt Whitman : When I Read The Book
• Walt Whitman : When Lilacs Last In The Door-yard Bloom'd

Previous 10 Poems

• Walt Whitman : Weave In, Weave In, My Hardy Life
• Walt Whitman : We Two-how Long We Were Fool'd
• Walt Whitman : We Two Boys Together Clinging
• Walt Whitman : Warble Of Lilac-time
• Walt Whitman : Wandering At Morn
• Walt Whitman : Walt Whitman's Caution
• Walt Whitman : Voices
• Walt Whitman : Visor'd
• Walt Whitman : Virginia--the West
• Walt Whitman : Virgil Strange I Kept On The Field