Walt Whitman

O Sun of Real Peace

O SUN of real peace! O hastening light!
  O free and extatic! O what I here, preparing, warble for!
  O the sun of the world will ascend, dazzling, and take his height—
        and you too, O my Ideal, will surely ascend!
  O so amazing and broad—up there resplendent, darting and burning!
  O vision prophetic, stagger’d with weight of light! with pouring
        glories!
  O lips of my soul, already becoming powerless!
  O ample and grand Presidentiads! Now the war, the war is over!
  New history! new heroes! I project you!
  Visions of poets! only you really last! sweep on! sweep on!
  O heights too swift and dizzy yet!                                 10
  O purged and luminous! you threaten me more than I can stand!
  (I must not venture—the ground under my feet menaces me—it will not
        support me:
  O future too immense,)—O present, I return, while yet I may, to you.
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