Walt Whitman

(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892 / New York / United States)

Out Of The Rolling Ocean, The Crowd - Poem by Walt Whitman

OUT of the rolling ocean, the crowd, came a drop gently to me,
Whispering, I love you, before long I die,
I have travel'd a long way, merely to look on you, to touch you,
For I could not die till I once look'd on you,
For I fear'd I might afterward lose you.

(Now we have met, we have look'd, we are safe;
Return in peace to the ocean, my love;
I too am part of that ocean, my love--we are not so much separated;
Behold the great rondure--the cohesion of all, how perfect!
But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us, 10
As for an hour, carrying us diverse--yet cannot carry us diverse for
Be not impatient--a little space--Know you, I salute the air, the
ocean and the land,
Every day, at sundown, for your dear sake, my love.)

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Read poems about / on: ocean, travel, peace, fear, sea, love, lost

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

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