The Dead Emperor
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Jump to navigationJump to searchfrom Leaves of Grass: BOOK XXXIV. SANDS AT SEVENTY - by Walt Whitman.
To-day, with bending head and eyes, thou, too, Columbia,
Less for the mighty crown laid low in sorrow—less for the Emperor,
Thy true condolence breathest, sendest out o’er many a salt sea mile,
Mourning a good old man—a faithful shepherd, patriot.
| from Leaves of Grass: BOOK XXXIV. SANDS AT SEVENTY by Walt Whitman | |
| Not Meagre, Latent Boughs Alone | As the Greek’s Signal Flame 
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