Walt Whitman (1819–1892). Leaves of Grass. 1900.

69. That Shadow, my Likeness

THAT shadow, my likeness, that goes to and fro, seeking a livelihood, chattering, chaffering;

How often I find myself standing and looking at it where it flits;

How often I question and doubt whether that is really me;

—But in these, and among my lovers, and caroling my songs,

O I never doubt whether that is really me.