Daily Whitman


Crossing Brooklyn Ferry

  Ah, what can ever be more stately and admirable to me than
      mast-hemm'd Manhattan?
  River and sunset and scallop-edg'd waves of flood-tide?
  The sea-gulls oscillating their bodies, the hay-boat in the
      twilight, and the belated lighter?
  What gods can exceed these that clasp me by the hand, and with voices I
      love call me promptly and loudly by my nighest name as approach?
  What is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man that
      looks in my face?
  Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you?

  We understand then do we not?
  What I promis'd without mentioning it, have you not accepted?
  What the study could not teach—what the preaching could not
      accomplish is accomplish'd, is it not?


Posted on 20/09/2014, in literature, poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

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