Walt Whitman

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

A Clear Midnight

Poem by Walt Whitman

THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou
lovest best.
Night, sleep, death and the stars.


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

Poem Edited: Thursday, December 12, 2013