"A Child said, What is the grass?" My Grandson and Walt Whitman

A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full
 hands;
How could I answer the child?. . . .I do not know what it
 is any more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful
 green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped,
Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we
 may see and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child. . . .the produced babe
 of the vegetation . . . . [Walt Whitman]#

This baby, my grandson, breaks my heart,

and makes it sing!