AS the time draws nigh, glooming, a cloud,
A dread beyond, of I know not what, darkens me.
I shall go forth,
I shall traverse The States awhile--but I cannot tell whither or how
long;
Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my voice will
suddenly cease.
O book, O chants! must all then amount to but this?
Must we barely arrive at this beginning of us?... And yet it is
enough, O soul!
O soul! we have positively appear'd--that is enough.
I have read a few of the great poet Whitman's poems on this site today. There is something I do not understand. Here is a collection of the greatest poems of a very important figure in Poetry and those who pause to read him can only give him ratings of 4 and 5 out of ten. We are all welcome to our opinions of course. I just am curious why so many hold him so cheap.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem, I liked the words. I for one denounce the Salem witch trials