The Complete Works of Walt Whitman. Walt Whitman

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      Through the ample open door of the peaceful country barn,

       A sunlit pasture field with cattle and horses feeding,

       And haze and vista, and the far horizon fading away.

A Child’s Amaze

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      Silent and amazed even when a little boy,

       I remember I heard the preacher every Sunday put God in his statements,

       As contending against some being or influence.

The Runner

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      On a flat road runs the well-train’d runner,

       He is lean and sinewy with muscular legs,

       He is thinly clothed, he leans forward as he runs,

       With lightly closed fists and arms partially rais’d.

Beautiful Women

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      Women sit or move to and fro, some old, some young,

       The young are beautiful — but the old are more beautiful than the young.

Mother and Babe

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      I see the sleeping babe nestling the breast of its mother,

       The sleeping mother and babe — hush’d, I study them long and long.

Thought

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      Of obedience, faith, adhesiveness;

       As I stand aloof and look there is to me something profoundly

       affecting in large masses of men following the lead of those who

       do not believe in men.

Visor’d

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      A mask, a perpetual natural disguiser of herself,

       Concealing her face, concealing her form,

       Changes and transformations every hour, every moment,

       Falling upon her even when she sleeps.

Thought

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      Of justice — as If could be any thing but the same ample law,

       expounded by natural judges and saviors,

       As if it might be this thing or that thing, according to decisions.

Gliding O’er all

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      Gliding o’er all, through all,

       Through Nature, Time, and Space,

       As a ship on the waters advancing,

       The voyage of the soul — not life alone,

       Death, many deaths I’ll sing.

Hast Never Come to Thee an Hour

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      Hast never come to thee an hour,

       A sudden gleam divine, precipitating, bursting all these bubbles,

       fashions, wealth?

       These eager business aims — books, politics, art, amours,

       To utter nothingness?

Thought

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      Of Equality — as if it harm’d me, giving others the same chances and

       rights as myself — as if it were not indispensable to my own

       rights that others possess the same.

To Old Age

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      I see in you the estuary that enlarges and spreads itself grandly as

       it pours in the great sea.

Locations and Times

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      Locations and times — what is it in me that meets them all, whenever

       and wherever, and makes me at home?

       Forms, colors, densities, odors — what is it in me that corresponds

       with them?

Offerings

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      A thousand perfect men and women appear,

       Around each gathers a cluster of friends, and gay children and

       youths, with offerings.

To The States [To Identify the 16th, 17th, or 18th Presidentiad]

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      Why reclining, interrogating? why myself and all drowsing?

       What deepening twilight-scum floating atop of the waters,

       Who are they as bats and night-dogs askant in the capitol?

       What a filthy Presidentiad! (O South, your torrid suns! O North,

       your arctic freezings!)

       Are those really Congressmen? are those the great Judges? is that

       the President?

       Then I will sleep awhile yet, for I see that these States sleep, for

       reasons;

       (With gathering murk, with muttering thunder and lambent shoots we

       all duly awake,

       South, North, East, West, inland and seaboard, we will surely awake.)

      BOOK XXI. DRUM-TAPS