Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours

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

  Yet, yet, ye downcast hours, I know ye also,
  Weights of lead, how ye clog and cling at my ankles,
  Earth to a chamber of mourning turns—I hear the o’erweening, mocking
      voice,
  Matter is conqueror—matter, triumphant only, continues onward.

  Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me,
  The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarm’d, uncertain,
  The sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me,
  Come tell me where I am speeding, tell me my destination.

  I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you,
  I approach, hear, behold, the sad mouth, the look out of the eyes,
      your mute inquiry,
  Whither I go from the bed I recline on, come tell me,—
  Old age, alarm’d, uncertain—a young woman’s voice, appealing to
      me for comfort;
  A young man’s voice, Shall I not escape?

from Leaves of Grass: BOOK XXX. WHISPERS OF HEAVENLY DEATH by Walt Whitman
Of Him I Love Day and Night	As If a Phantom Caress’d Me

Enable comment auto-refresher