A Clear Midnight
This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou
Night, sleep, death and the stars.
|from Leaves of Grass: BOOK XXXII. FROM NOON TO STARRY NIGHT|
by Walt Whitman
|As I Walk These Broad Majestic Days (LoG)||As the Time Draws Nigh|