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The last scud of day holds back for me, It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow'd wilds, It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk. I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags. I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles. You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, But I shall be good health to your nevertheless, And filter and fibre your blood. Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, Missing me one place, search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you.


Walt Whitman


#mystic #spiritual #inspirational



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Did you know about Walt Whitman?

The work was an attempt at reaching out to the common person with an American epic. By May 1 Whitman received a promotion to a slightly higher clerkship and publiWalt Whitmand Drum-Taps. Another possible lover was Bill Duckett.

His poetry presented an egalitarian view of the races and at one point he called for the abolition of slavery but later he saw the abolitionist movement as a threat to democracy. Walter "Walt" Whitman (May 31 1819 – March 26 1892) was an American poet essayist and journalist. Whitman's major work Leaves of Grass was first publiWalt Whitmand in 1855 with his own money.

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