Daily Whitman



  Of obedience, faith, adhesiveness;
  As I stand aloof and look there is to me something profoundly
      affecting in large masses of men following the lead of those who
      do not believe in men.

Daily Whitman

Mother and Baby

Mother and Babe

  I see the sleeping babe nestling the breast of its mother,
  The sleeping mother and babe—hush'd, I study them long and long.

Daily Whitman


Beautiful Women

  Women sit or move to and fro, some old, some young,
  The young are beautiful—but the old are more beautiful than the young.

Daily Whitman


The Runner

  On a flat road runs the well-train'd runner,
  He is lean and sinewy with muscular legs,
  He is thinly clothed, he leans forward as he runs,
  With lightly closed fists and arms partially rais'd.

Daily Whitman


A Child’s Amaze

  Silent and amazed even when a little boy,
  I remember I heard the preacher every Sunday put God in his statements,
  As contending against some being or influence.

Quote for the Week


At sea on a ship in a thunderstorm
on the very night the Christ was born
a sailor heard from overhead
a mighty voice cry “Pan is Dead!”
So follow Christ as best you can
Pan is dead — Long live Pan!

Mike Scott, “The Return Of Pan”, from Dream Harder; courtesy of Wikiquote

Daily Whitman


A Farm Picture

  Through the ample open door of the peaceful country barn,
  A sunlit pasture field with cattle and horses feeding,
  And haze and vista, and the far horizon fading away.

Some (Belated) Philip Glass for the Weekend

Daily Whitman


Roaming in Thought [After reading Hegel]

  Roaming in thought over the Universe, I saw the little that is Good
      steadily hastening towards immortality,
  And the vast all that is call'd Evil I saw hastening to merge itself
      and become lost and dead.


Daily Whitman


The Dalliance of the Eagles

  Skirting the river road, (my forenoon walk, my rest,)
  Skyward in air a sudden muffled sound, the dalliance of the eagles,
  The rushing amorous contact high in space together,
  The clinching interlocking claws, a living, fierce, gyrating wheel,
  Four beating wings, two beaks, a swirling mass tight grappling,
  In tumbling turning clustering loops, straight downward falling,
  Till o'er the river pois'd, the twain yet one, a moment's lull,
  A motionless still balance in the air, then parting, talons loosing,
  Upward again on slow-firm pinions slanting, their separate diverse flight,
  She hers, he his, pursuing.



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