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Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage, must in time be utterly lost.

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
Deeds
War
Lost
Beautiful
Must
Time
Carnage
Utterly

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I dote on myself. There is a lot of me and all so luscious.
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I swear to you, there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell
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Strange, (is it not?) that battles, martyrs, blood, even assassination should so condense - perhaps only really lastingly condense - a Nationality.
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Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturbed.
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Now I will do nothing but listen to accrue what I hear into this song. To let sounds contribute toward it. I hear the sound I love. The sound of the human voice. I hear all sounds running together.
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I lean and loaf at my ease... observing a spear of summer grass.
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The smallest sprout shows there is really no death.
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The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night, Ya-honk! he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation: The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listen closer, I find its purpose and place up there toward the November sky.
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The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first Be not discouraged - keep on - there are divine things, well envelop'd I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.
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I know I am deathlessÂ…We have thus far exhausted trillions of winters and summers, There are trillions ahead, and trillions ahead of them.
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I say you shall yet find the friend you were looking for.
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Come lovely and soothing death, Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving, In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later, delicate death.
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I see behind each mask that wonder a kindred soul.
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O the joy of the strong-brawn'd fighter, towering in the arena in perfect condition, conscious of power, thirsting to meet his opponent.
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Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest, Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next, Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it.
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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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People who serve you without love get even behind your back.
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I have no mockings or arguments I witness and wait.
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I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contained, I stand and look at them long and long.
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