Walt Whitman
New York / United States
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Despairing Cries

Rating: 2.9

DESPAIRING cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night,
The sad voice of Death--the call of my nearest lover, putting forth,
alarmed, uncertain,
This sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me,
Come tell me where I am speeding--tell me my destination.


I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you,
I approach, hear, behold--the sad mouth, the look out of the eyes,
your mute inquiry,
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COMMENTS
Norman Jensen 27 July 2018
I think it is a terrible thing to have Whitman's poem read by a robot.
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