Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night,
The sad voice of Death—the call of my nearest lover, putting forth,
    alarmed, uncertain,
“This 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 now recline on, come tell me;”
Old age, alarmed, uncertain—A young woman’s voice appealing to me,
    for comfort,
A young man’s voice, “Shall I not escape?”

  • 0
  • 0
Login to comment...

Other works by Walt Whitman...

Some poets who follow Walt Whitman...

Rosario Esperón Marcus Lopes Ariana Ibañez Gregory F. Groat Vishan Rai Francisco Ganem