Here the Frailest Leaves of Me by Walt Whitman
Calamus, Calamus! Think about Calamus, for pete’s sakes, said my friend. We have skipped class and were sitting at the library steps.
Wished you were here.
Here the Frailest Leaves of Me
Here the frailest leaves of me, and yet my strongest-lasting:
Here I shade and hide my thoughts—I myself do not expose them,
And yet they expose me more than all my other poems.