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Full Online Book HomePoemsThought (as I Sit With Others At A Great Feast)
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Thought (as I Sit With Others At A Great Feast) Post by :dashingdave Category :Poems Author :Walt Whitman Date :May 2011 Read :616

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Thought (as I Sit With Others At A Great Feast)

As I sit with others at a great feast, suddenly while the music is playing,

To my mind, (whence it comes I know not,) spectral in mist of a wreck at sea,

Of certain ships, how they sail from port with flying streamers and wafted kisses, and that is the last of them,

Of the solemn and murky mystery about the fate of the President,

Of the flower of the marine science of fifty generations founder'd off the Northeast coast and going down--of the steamship Arctic going down,

Of the veil'd tableau-women gather'd together on deck, pale, heroic, waiting the moment that draws so close--O the moment!

A huge sob--a few bubbles--the white foam spirting up--and then the women gone,

Sinking there while the passionless wet flows on--and I now pondering, Are those women indeed gone?

Are souls drown'd and destroy'd so?

Is only matter triumphant?

(The end)
Walt Whitman's poem: Thought

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The Last Invocation The Last Invocation

The Last Invocation
At the last, tenderly, From the walls of the powerful fortress'd house, From the clasp of the knitted locks, from the keep of the well-closed doors, Let me be wafted. Let me glide noiselessly forth; With the key of softness unlock the locks--with a whisper, Set ope the doors O soul. Tenderly--be not impatient, (Strong is your hold O mortal flesh, Strong is your hold O love.)(The end)Walt Whitman's poem: Last Invocation

Night On The Prairies Night On The Prairies

Night On The Prairies
Night on the prairies, The supper is over, the fire on the ground burns low, The wearied emigrants sleep, wrapt in their blankets; I walk by myself--I stand and look at the stars, which I think now never realized before. Now I absorb immortality and peace, I admire death and test propositions. How plenteous! how spiritual! how resume! The same old man and soul--the same old aspirations, and the same content. I was thinking the day most splendid till I saw what the not-day exhibited, I was thinking this globe enough till