"The earth--that is sufficient."

Vacation starts when the whistle blows at 5 pm, but the day begins with a wonderful coincidence: it's Walt Whitman's birthday! So, to celebrate the first vacation (albeit brief) in what seems years, here's the first stanza of "Song of the Open Road" from the 1892 edition of Leaves of Grass which happened to be the first poem I flipped to this morning. A good omen? I'm crossing my fingers. Guess I'll be bringing the book with me to San Francisco....

Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content, I travel the open road.

The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)