The DayPoems Poetry Collection Timothy Bovee, editor www.daypoems.net Click on the bonsai for the next poem. DayPoems Forum Click to submit poems to DayPoems, comment on DayPoems or a poem within, comment on other poetry sites, update links, or simply get in touch. DayPoems Forum. Poetry Whirl
Indexes
Poetry Places
Nodes powered by
|
D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s |
Won't you help support DayPoems? As Consequent, Etc.By Walt Whitman1819-1892As consequent from store of summer rains, Or wayward rivulets in autumn flowing, Or many a herb-lined brook's reticulations, Or subterranean sea-rills making for the sea, Songs of continued years I sing. Life's ever-modern rapids first, (soon, soon to blend, With the old streams of death.) Some threading Ohio's farm-fields or the woods, Some down Colorado's canons from sources of perpetual snow, Some half-hid in Oregon, or away southward in Texas, Some in the north finding their way to Erie, Niagara, Ottawa, Some to Atlantica's bays, and so to the great salt brine. In you whoe'er you are my book perusing, In I myself, in all the world, these currents flowing, All, all toward the mystic ocean tending. Currents for starting a continent new, Overtures sent to the solid out of the liquid, Fusion of ocean and land, tender and pensive waves, (Not safe and peaceful only, waves rous'd and ominous too, Out of the depths the storm's abysmic waves, who knows whence? Raging over the vast, with many a broken spar and tatter'd sail.) Or from the sea of Time, collecting vasting all, I bring, A windrow-drift of weeds and shells. O little shells, so curious-convolute, so limpid-cold and voiceless, Will you not little shells to the tympans of temples held, Murmurs and echoes still call up, eternity's music faint and far, Wafted inland, sent from Atlantica's rim, strains for the soul of the prairies, Whisper'd reverberations, chords for the ear of the West joyously sounding, Your tidings old, yet ever new and untranslatable, Infinitesimals out of my life, and many a life, (For not my life and years alone I give--all, all I give,) These waifs from the deep, cast high and dry, Wash'd on America's shores? DayPoems Poem No. 2064 Comment on DayPoems? If you are like us, you have strong feelings about poetry, and about each poem you read. Let it all out! Comment on this poem, any poem, DayPoems, other poetry places or the art of poetry at DayPoems Feedback. Won't you help support DayPoems? Click here to learn more about how you can keep DayPoems on the Web . . . Copyright The DayPoems web site, www.daypoems.net, is copyright 2001-2005 by Timothy K. Bovee. All rights reserved. The authors of poetry and other material appearing on DayPoems retain full rights to their work. Any requests for publication in other venues must be negotiated separately with the authors. The editor of DayPoems will gladly assist in putting interested parties in contact with the authors. |
The Online Bonsai Icon Collection http://www.hav.com/tobic.html |