O Living Always, Always Dying

From ImmortalPoetry
Jump to navigationJump to search

from Leaves of Grass: BOOK XXX. WHISPERS OF HEAVENLY DEATH - by Walt Whitman.

  O living always, always dying!
  O the burials of me past and present,
  O me while I stride ahead, material, visible, imperious as ever;
  O me, what I was for years, now dead, (I lament not, I am content;)
  O to disengage myself from those corpses of me, which I turn and
      look at where I cast them,
  To pass on, (O living! always living!) and leave the corpses behind.

 

Add your comment
ImmortalPoetry welcomes all comments. If you do not want to be anonymous, register or log in. It is free.