WALT WHITMAN Ultimate Collection: 500+ Works in Poetry & Prose. Walt Whitman

WALT WHITMAN Ultimate Collection: 500+ Works in Poetry & Prose - Walt Whitman


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      To the East and to the West,

       To the man of the Seaside State and of Pennsylvania,

       To the Kanadian of the north, to the Southerner I love,

       These with perfect trust to depict you as myself, the germs are in all men,

       I believe the main purport of these States is to found a superb

       friendship, exalte, previously unknown,

       Because I perceive it waits, and has been always waiting, latent in all men.

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      Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with rage for fear I effuse

       unreturn’d love,

       But now I think there is no unreturn’d love, the pay is certain one

       way or another,

       (I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not return’d,

       Yet out of that I have written these songs.)

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      Many things to absorb I teach to help you become eleve of mine;

       Yet if blood like mine circle not in your veins,

       If you be not silently selected by lovers and do not silently select lovers,

       Of what use is it that you seek to become eleve of mine?

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      Fast-anchor’d eternal O love! O woman I love!

       O bride! O wife! more resistless than I can tell, the thought of you!

       Then separate, as disembodied or another born,

       Ethereal, the last athletic reality, my consolation,

       I ascend, I float in the regions of your love O man,

       O sharer of my roving life.

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      Among the men and women the multitude,

       I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs,

       Acknowledging none else, not parent, wife, husband, brother, child,

       any nearer than I am,

       Some are baffled, but that one is not — that one knows me.

      Ah lover and perfect equal,

       I meant that you should discover me so by faint indirections,

       And I when I meet you mean to discover you by the like in you.

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      O you whom I often and silently come where you are that I may be with you,

       As I walk by your side or sit near, or remain in the same room with you,

       Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is

       playing within me.

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      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 among my lovers and caroling these songs,

       O I never doubt whether that is really me.

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      Full of life now, compact, visible,

       I, forty years old the eighty-third year of the States,

       To one a century hence or any number of centuries hence,

       To you yet unborn these, seeking you.

      When you read these I that was visible am become invisible,

       Now it is you, compact, visible, realizing my poems, seeking me,

       Fancying how happy you were if I could be with you and become your comrade;

       Be it as if I were with you. (Be not too certain but I am now with you.)

      BOOK VI

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      1

       O take my hand Walt Whitman!

       Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds!

       Such join’d unended links, each hook’d to the next,

       Each answering all, each sharing the earth with all.

      What widens within you Walt Whitman?

       What waves and soils exuding?

       What climes? what persons and cities are here?

       Who are the infants, some playing, some slumbering?

       Who are the girls? who are the married women?

       Who are the groups of old men going slowly with their arms about

       each other’s necks?

       What rivers are these? what forests and fruits are these?

       What are the mountains call’d that rise so high in the mists?

       What myriads of dwellings are they fill’d with dwellers?

      2

       Within me latitude widens, longitude lengthens,

       Asia, Africa, Europe, are to the east — America is provided for in the west,

       Banding the bulge of the earth winds the hot equator,

       Curiously north and south turn the axis-ends,

       Within me is the longest day, the sun wheels in slanting rings, it

       does not set for months,

       Stretch’d in due time within me the midnight sun just rises above

       the horizon and sinks again,

       Within me zones, seas, cataracts, forests, volcanoes, groups,

       Malaysia, Polynesia, and the great West Indian islands.

      3

      


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