31 May 2012

Happy birthday, Walt Whitman

The impalpable sustenance of me from all things, at all hours of the day; 
The simple, compact, well-join’d scheme—myself disintegrated, every one disintegrated, yet part of the scheme: 
The similitudes of the past, and those of the future; 
The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings—on the walk in the street, and the passage over the river; 
The current rushing so swiftly, and swimming with me far away; 
The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them; 
The certainty of others—the life, love, sight, hearing of others. 
Others will enter the gates of the ferry, and cross from shore to shore; 
Others will watch the run of the flood-tide; 
Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the heights of Brooklyn to the south and east; 
Others will see the islands large and small; 
Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half an hour high; 
A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others will see them, 
Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring in of the flood-tide, the falling back to the sea of the ebb-tide.  
-From "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry"

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