Walt Whitman — A Civility Too Long Neglected

    The foregoing reminds me of something.     As the individualities I would mainly portray have certainly been slighted by folks who make pictures, volumes, poems, out of them—as a faint testimonial of my own gratitude for many hours of peace and comfort in half-sickness, (and not by any means sure but they will somehow get wind of the compliment,) I hereby dedicate the last half of these Specimen Days to the         bees,                             glow-worms, (swarming millions         black-birds,                    of them indescribably         dragon-flies,                   strange and beautiful at night         pond-turtles,                  over the pond and creek,)         mulleins, tansy, peppermint,    water-snakes,         moths, (great and little, some     crows,                 splendid fellows,)            millers,         mosquitoes,                              cedars,         butterflies,                                tulip-trees, (and all other trees,)         wasps and hornets,                and to the spots and memories         cat-birds, (and all other birds,)    of those days, and the creek.