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Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city of this earth ever afterward resumes its liberty.

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
Liberty
Nations
Resumes
State
Enslaved
Earth
Afterward
States
Fully
Ever
City
Nation
Cities

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Through the ample open door of the peaceful country barn, A sun-lit pasture field, with cattle and horses feeding And haze, and vista, and the far horizon, fading away.
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The words of my book nothing, the drift of it everything.
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Sometimes with one I love, I fill myself with rage, for fear I effuse unreturn'd love But now I think there is no unreturn'd love—the pay is certain, one way or another (I loved a certain person ardently, and my love was not return'd Yet out of that, I have written these songs.)
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Dismiss whatever insults your soul.
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All music is what awakes from you when you are reminded by the instruments. It is not the violins and the cornets-it is not the oboe nor the beating drums, nor the score of the baritone singer singing his sweet romanza-nor that of the women's chorus it is nearer and farther than they.
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I say the whole earth and all the stars in the sky are for religion's sake.
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Give me the splendid, silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling.
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Of all mankind the great poet is the equable man. Not in him but off from him things are grotesque or eccentric or fail of their sanity.
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I heard what was said of the universe, heard it and heard it of several thousand years it is middling well as far as it goes - but is that all?
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Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you/ That you may be my poem/ I whisper with my lips close to your ear/ I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you.
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And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm me.
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Manhattan streets with their powerful throbs, with beating drums as now, The endless and noisy chorus, the rustle and clank of muskets, (even the sight of the wounded,) Manhattan crowds, with their turbulent musical chorus! Manhattan faces and eyes forever for me.
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These are the days that must happen to you.
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I am for those who believe in loose delights, I share the midnight orgies of young men, I dance with the dancers and drink with the drinkers.
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Forsake all inhibitions, Pursue thy dreams.
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I see that I am to wait for what will be exhibited by death.
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The smallest sprout shows there is really no death.
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I henceforth tread the world, chaste, temperate, an early riser, a steady grower.
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Not I, nor anyone else can travel that road for you. You must travel it by yourself. It is not far. It is within reach. Perhaps you have been on it since you were born, and did not know. Perhaps it is everywhere - on water and land.
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I will You, in all, Myself, with promise to never desert you, To which I sign my name.
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