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Now, Voyager, sail thou forth, to seek and find.

Walt Whitman

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Walt Whitman
Age: 72 †
Born: 1819
Born: May 31
Died: 1892
Died: March 26
Editor
Essayist
Journalist
Novelist
Nurse
Poet
Writer
West Hills
New York
Walter Whitman
Sail
Forth
Thou
Seek
Find
Voyager

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Lo, the most excellent sun so calm and haughty, The violet and purple morn with just-felt breezes, The gentle soft-born measureless light, The miracle spreading bathing all, the fulfill'd noon, The coming eve delicious, the welcome night and the stars, Over my cities shining all, enveloping man and land.
Walt Whitman
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The earth does not argue, Is not pathetic, has no arrangements, Does not scream, haste, persuade, threaten, promise, Makes no discriminations, has no conceivable failures, Closes nothing, refuses nothing, shuts none out.
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The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections.
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A Song of the good green grass! A song no more of the city streets A song of farms - a song of the soil of fields. A song with the smell of sun-dried hay, where the nimble pitchers handle the pitch-fork A song tasting of new wheat, and of fresh-husk'd maize.
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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.
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storming, enjoying, planning, loving, cautioning, Backing and filling, appearing and disappearing, I tread day and night such roads.
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Oh captain my captain
Walt Whitman
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Where the earth is, we are.
Walt Whitman
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I sing the body electric, The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them, They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them, And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul.
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I have sometimes thought that the laws ought not to punish those actions of evil which are committed when the senses are steeped in intoxication.
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Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard.
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I celebrate myself, and sing myself.
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To drive free, to love free, to court destruction with taunts, to feed the remainder of life with one hour of fullness and freedom - one brief hour of madness and joy.
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I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear.
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I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person.
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Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?
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The ecstasy is so short but the forgetting is so long.
Walt Whitman
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Loafe with me on the grass—loose the stop from your throat Not words, not music or rhyme I want—not custom or lecture, not even the best Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
Walt Whitman
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I dreamed in a dream, I saw a city invincible to the attacks of the whole of the rest of the earth I dreamed that was the new City of Friends Nothing was greater there than the quality of robust love—it led the rest It was seen every hour in the actions of the men of that city, And in all their looks and words.
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We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun, We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the daybreak.
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