BOOK XXXIII. SONGS OF PARTING
As the Time Draws Nigh
As the time draws nigh glooming a cloud, A dread beyond of I know not what darkens me. I shall go forth, I shall traverse the States awhile, but I cannot tell whither or how long, Perhaps soon some day or night while I am singing my voice will suddenly cease. O book, O chants! must all then amount to but this? Must we barely arrive at this beginning of us? —and yet it is enough, O soul; O soul, we have positively appear'd—that is enough.
Posted on 14/08/2015, in literature, poetry and tagged 19th Century Poetry, American literature, American poets, Daily Whitman, free verse, Leaves of Grass, literature, poems, poetry, Transcendentalists, Walt Whitman. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.