• The mother condemned for a witch and burnt with dry
    wood, and her children gazing on;
    The hounded slave that flags in the race and leans by the
    fence, blowing and covered with sweat,
    The twinges that sting like needles his legs and neck,
    The murderous buckshot and the bullets,
    All these I feel or am.

    Walt Whitman (2013). “Walt Whitman: Selected Poems 1855-1892”, p.46, St. Martin's Press