Walt Whitman Poems
A Clear Midnight
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
Night, sleep, death and the stars.
WHAT are those of the known, but to ascend and enter the Unknown?
And what are those of life, but for Death?