To The Garden The World
Walt Whitman
TO THE garden, the world, anew ascending, Potent mates, daughters, sons, preluding, The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being, Curious, here behold my resurrection, after slumber; The revolving cycles, in their wide sweep, have brought me again, Amorous, mature--all beautiful to me--all wondrous; My limbs, and the quivering fire that ever plays through them, for reasons, most wondrous; Existing, I peer and penetrate still, Content with the present--content with the past, By my side, or back of me, Eve following, 10 Or in front, and I following her just the same.
Next 10 Poems
- Walt Whitman : To The Leaven'd Soil They Trod
- Walt Whitman : To The Man-of-war-bird
- Walt Whitman : To The Reader At Parting
- Walt Whitman : To The States
- Walt Whitman : To Thee, Old Cause!
- Walt Whitman : To Think Of Time
- Walt Whitman : To You
- Walt Whitman : Trinckle, Drops
- Walt Whitman : Turn, O Libertad
- Walt Whitman : Two Rivulets
Previous 10 Poems
- Walt Whitman : To The East And To The West
- Walt Whitman : To Rich Givers
- Walt Whitman : To Oratists
- Walt Whitman : To One Shortly To Die
- Walt Whitman : To Old Age
- Walt Whitman : To Him That Was Crucified
- Walt Whitman : To Foreign Lands
- Walt Whitman : To A Western Boy
- Walt Whitman : To A Stranger
- Walt Whitman : To A Pupil