Greetings everybody:

I was reading the end of "Song of Myself" over the weekend and got to
wondering, was Walt actually the first American letterboxer? What do
you think?

I bequeathe myself to the dirt, to grow from the grass I love;
If you want me again, look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am, or what I mean;
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged;
Missing me one place, search another;
I stop somewhere, waiting for you.

Bonita aka Bonnie
in beautiful Leverett, Mass.

P.S. Erik, I have been trying unsuccessfully to find the lyrics to
Todd Rundgren's "Song of the Viking" for you. From his
Something/Anything LP of the mid-70s. Know it? The last line is
"Erik is here" as I recall. It's a wonderful song.

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