Leaves of Grass

Shakspere-Bacon’s Cipher

  I doubt it not—then more, far more;
  In each old song bequeath’d—in every noble page or text,
  (Different—something unreck’d before—some unsuspected author,)
  In every object, mountain, tree, and star—in every birth and life,
  As part of each—evolv’d from each—meaning, behind the ostent,
  A mystic cipher waits infolded.

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