Live Oak, with Moss.

I SAW in Louisiana a live-oak growing,
All alone stood it, and the moss hung down from the branches,
Without any companion it grew there, uttering joyous leaves of dark green,
And its look, rude, lusty, made me think of myself.


But I wondered how it could utter joyous leaves, standing alone there, without its friend, its lover near -- for I knew I could not,
And I broke off a twig with a certain number of leaves upon it, and twined around it a little moss,
And brought it away -- and I have placed it in sight in my room,
It is not needed to remind me as if my own dear friends,
(For I believe lately I think of little else than of them,)
Yet it remains to me a curious token -- it makes me think of manly love;
For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there in Louisiana, solitary, in a wide flat space,
Uttering joyous leaves all its life, without a friend, a lover, near,
I know very well I could not.

-from "Calamus Poems" from "Leaves of Grass" by Walt Whitman.

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This makes me want to cry.