Read the poem. Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road, Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose. Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I myself am good-fortune; Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Strong and content, I travel the open road. . . . From this hour, freedom! From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines, Going where I list, my own master, total and absolute, Listening to others, and considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me. I inhale great draughts of space; The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine. I am larger, better than I thought; I did not know I held so much goodness. All seems beautiful to me; I can repeat over to men and women, You have done such good to me, I would do the sa