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Poems By Poet Walt Whitman  7/25/2014 1:44:50 AM
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Walt Whitman   Best Poems From
  WALT WHITMAN (31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
 
 
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  237.     

Ethiopia Saluting The Colors


WHO are you, dusky woman, so ancient, hardly human,
With your woolly-white and turban'd head, and bare bony feet?
Why, rising by the roadside here, do you the colors greet?


('Tis while our army lines Carolina's sand and pines,
Forth from thy hovel door, thou, Ethiopia, com'st to me,
As, under doughty Sherman, I march toward the sea.)


Me, master, years a hundred, since from my parents sunder'd,
A little child, they caught me as the savage beast is caught;
Then hither me, across the sea, the cruel slaver brought.


No further does she say, but lingering all the day, 10
Her high-borne turban'd head she wags, and rolls her darkling eye,
And curtseys to the regiments, the guidons moving by.


What is it, fateful woman--so blear, hardly human?
Why wag your head, with turban bound--yellow, red and green?
Are the things so strange and marvelous, you see or have seen?
 
Walt Whitman

Read more: woman poems, sea poems, child poems, green poems, red poems, women poems, children poems, rose poems
   
 

   
   
 

  238.     

Hast Never Come To Thee An Hour

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?
 
Walt Whitman
   
 

   
   
 

  239.     

Now List To My Morning's Romanza


NOW list to my morning's romanza--I tell the signs of the Answerer;
To the cities and farms I sing, as they spread in the sunshine before
me.

A young man comes to me bearing a message from his brother;
How shall the young man know the whether and when of his brother?
Tell him to send me the signs.

And I stand before the young man face to face, and take his right
hand in my left hand, and his left hand in my right hand,
And I answer for his brother, and for men, and I answer for him that
answers for all, and send these signs.


Him all wait for--him all yield up to--his word is decisive and
final,
Him they accept, in him lave, in him perceive themselves, as amid
light,
Him they immerse, and he immerses them. 10

Beautiful women, the haughtiest nations, laws, the landscape, people,
animals,
The profound earth and its attributes, and the unquiet ocean, (so
tell I my morning's romanza;)
All enjoyments and properties, and money, and whatever money will
buy,
The best farms--others toiling and planting, and he unavoidably
reaps,
The noblest and costliest cities--others grading and building, and he
domiciles there;
Nothing for any one, but what is for him--near and far are for him,
the ships in the offing,
The perpetual shows and marches on land, are for him, if they are for
any body.

He puts things in their attitudes;
He puts to-day out of himself, with plasticity and love;
He places his own city, times, reminiscences, parents, brothers and
sisters, associations, employment, politics, so that the rest
never shame them afterward, nor assume to command them. 20

He is the answerer:
What can be answer'd he answers--and what cannot be answer'd, he
shows how it cannot be answer'd.


A man is a summons and challenge;
(It is vain to skulk--Do you hear that mocking and laughter? Do you
hear the ironical echoes?)

Books, friendships, philosophers, priests, action, pleasure, pride,
beat up and down, seeking to give satisfaction;
He indicates the satisfaction, and indicates them that beat up and
down also.

Whichever the sex, whatever the season or place, he may go freshly
and gently and safely, by day or by night;
He has the pass-key of hearts--to him the response of the prying of
hands on the knobs.

His welcome is universal--the flow of beauty is not more welcome or
universal than he is;
The person he favors by day, or sleeps with at night, is blessed. 30


Every existence has its idiom--everything has an idiom and tongue;
He resolves all tongues into his own, and bestows it upon men, and
any man translates, and any man translates himself also;
One part does not counteract another part--he is the joiner--he sees
how they join.

He says indifferently and alike, How are you, friend? to the
President at his levee,
And he says, Good-day, my brother! to Cudge that hoes in the sugar-
field,
And both understand him, and know that his speech is right.

He walks with perfect ease in the Capitol,
He walks among the Congress, and one Representative says to another,
Here is our equal, appearing and new.

Then the mechanics take him for a mechanic,
And the soldiers suppose him to be a soldier, and the sailors that he
has follow'd the sea, 40
And the authors take him for an author, and the artists for an
artist,
And the laborers perceive he could labor with them and love them;
No matter what the work is, that he is the one to follow it, or has
follow'd it,
No matter what the nation, that he might find his brothers and
sisters there.

The English believe he comes of their English stock,
A Jew to the Jew he seems--a Russ to the Russ--usual and near,
removed from none.

Whoever he looks at in the traveler's coffee-house claims him,
The Italian or Frenchman is sure, and the German is sure, and the
Spaniard is sure, and the island Cuban is sure;
The engineer, the deck-hand on the great lakes, or on the
Mississippi, or St. Lawrence, or Sacramento, or Hudson, or
Paumanok Sound, claims him.

The gentleman of perfect blood acknowledges his perfect blood; 50
The insulter, the prostitute, the angry person, the beggar, see
themselves in the ways of him--he strangely transmutes them,
They are not vile any more--they hardly know themselves, they are so
grown.
 
Walt Whitman

Read more: brother poems, money poems, soldier poems, sunshine poems, laughter poems, city poems, women poems, ocean poems, pride poems, believe poems, beautiful poems, house poems, work poems, friend poems, beauty poems, people poems, sea poems, sister poems, sleep poems, woman poems
   
 

   
   
 

  240.     

So Far And So Far, And On Toward The End

SO far, and so far, and on toward the end,
Singing what is sung in this book, from the irresistible impulses of
me;
But whether I continue beyond this book, to maturity,
Whether I shall dart forth the true rays, the ones that wait unfired,
(Did you think the sun was shining its brightest?
No--it has not yet fully risen;)
Whether I shall complete what is here started,
Whether I shall attain my own height, to justify these, yet
unfinished,
Whether I shall make THE POEM OF THE NEW WORLD, transcending all
others--depends, rich persons, upon you,
Depends, whoever you are now filling the current Presidentiad, upon
you, 10
Upon you, Governor, Mayor, Congressman,
And you, contemporary America.

Whitman, Walt. 1900. Leaves of Grass.
 
Walt Whitman

Read more: america poems, poem poems, sun poems, world poems, rose poems
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Walt Whitman