In the whispers of the leaves, a gentle song,
The symphony of earth where souls belong,
Walt Whitman walks with nature’s gentle grace,
In every breeze, his spirit finds its place.

The rivers dance with silver in the light,
Reflecting dreams that wander through the night,
In every rustling leaf, a tale unfolds,
Of ancient woods and secrets nature holds.

The grass beneath our feet, a living sea,
Where Whitman finds his truth and destiny,
In every blade, the universe aligns,
A tapestry of life in endless signs.

Beneath the sky, in stars that softly gleam,
He finds the essence of a poet’s dream,
With every breath, the world becomes his muse,
In nature’s arms, his spirit finds its muse.