From "I Sing the Body Electric" by Walt Whitman

I knew a man, a common farmer, the father of five sons,

And in them the fathers of sons, and in them the fathers of sons.

This man was a wonderful vigor, calmness, beauty of person,

The shape of his head, the pale yellow and white of his hair and

     beard, the immeasurable meaning of his black eyes, the richness

     and breadth of his manners,

These I used to go and visit him to see, he was wise also,

He was six feet tall, he was over eighty years old, his sons were

     massive, clean, bearded, tan-faced, handsome,

They and his daughters loved him, all who saw him loved him,

They did not love him by allowance, they loved him with personal

     love,

He drank water only, the blood show'd like scarlet through the

     clear-brown skin of his face,

He was a frequent gunner and fisher, he sail'd his boat himself, he

     had a fine one presented to him by a ship-joiner, he had

     fowling-pieces presented to him by men that loved him,

When he went with his five sons and many grand-sons to hunt or fish,

     you would pick him out as the most beautiful and vigorous of

     the gang,

You would wish long and long to be with him, you would wish to sit

     by him in the boat that you and he might touch each other.