Uncle Walt

Alone far in the wilds and mountains I hunt,
Wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee,
In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night,
Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill'd game,
Falling asleep on the gather'd leaves with my dog and gun
       by my side.
 
The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the
       sparkle and scud,
My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout
       joyously from the deck.
 
The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me,
I tuck'd my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a
       good time;
You should have been with us that day round the chowder-
       kettle.

-- Walt Whitman, Song of Myself