Status Updates From Leaves of Grass: The First ...

Blow trumpeter free and clear, I follow thee,
While at thy liquid prelude, glad, serene,
The fretting world, the streets, the noisy hours of day withdraw,
A holy calm descends like dew upon me,
I walk in cool refreshing night the walks of Paradise,
I scent the grass, the moist air and the roses;
Thy song expands my numb'd imbonded spirit, thou freest, launchest me,
Floating and basking upon heaven's lake.

Let the reformers descend from the stands where they are forever bawling -- let an idiot or insane person appear on each of the stands;
Let judges and criminals be transposed -- let the prison-keepers be put in prison -- let those that were prisoners take the keys;
Let them that distrust birth and death take the rest.