Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours -English Poem 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,

Years Of The Modern - Poem by Walt Whitman

YEARS of the modern! years of the unperform'd!
Your horizon rises--I see it parting away for more august dramas;
I see not America only--I see not only Liberty's nation, but other
nations preparing;

Year That Trembled -English Poem by Walt Whitman

YEAR that trembled and reel'd beneath me!
Your summer wind was warm enough--yet the air I breathed froze me;
A thick gloom fell through the sunshine and darken'd me;
Must I change my triumphant songs? said I to myself;
Must I indeed learn to chant the cold dirges of the baffled?
And sullen hymns of defeat? 

Year Of Meteors, 1859 '60 -English Poem by Walt Whitman

YEAR of meteors! brooding year!
I would bind in words retrospective, some of your deeds and signs;
I would sing your contest for the 19th Presidentiad;
I would sing how an old man, tall, with white hair, mounted the
scaffold in Virginia;

World, Take Good Notice -English Poem by Walt Whitman

WORLD, take good notice, silver stars fading,
Milky hue ript, weft of white detaching,
Coals thirty-eight, baleful and burning,

With Antecedents -English Poem by Walt Whitman

WITH antecedents;
With my fathers and mothers, and the accumulations of past ages;
With all which, had it not been, I would not now be here, as I am:

With All Thy Gifts - Poem by Walt Whitman

WITH all thy gifts, America,
(Standing secure, rapidly tending, overlooking the world,)
Power, wealth, extent, vouchsafed to thee--With these, and like of

Whoever You Are, Holding Me Now In Hand - Poem by Walt Whitman

Whoever you are, holding me now in hand,
Without one thing, all will be useless,
I give you fair warning, before you attempt me further,
I am not what you supposed, but far different.

Who Learns My Lesson Complete? -English Poem by Walt Whitman

WHO learns my lesson complete?
Boss, journeyman, apprentice--churchman and atheist,
The stupid and the wise thin

Who Is Now Reading This? -English Poem by Walt Whitman

May-be one is now reading this who knows some wrong-doing of my past
life,
Or may-be a stranger is reading this who has secretly loved me,
Or may-be one who meets all my grand assumptions and egotisms with
derision,

Whispers Of Heavenly Death -English Poem by Walt Whitman

WHISPERS of heavenly death, murmur'd I hear;
Labial gossip of night--sibilant chorals;
Footsteps gently ascending--mystical breezes, wafted soft and low;
Ripples of unseen rivers--tides of a current,

When Lilacs Last In The Dooryard Bloom'D -English Poem by Walt Whitman

from Memories of President Lincoln

1

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd, 
And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,

When I Read The Book -English Poem by Walt Whitman

WHEN I read the book, the biography famous,
And is this, then, (said I,) what the author calls a man's life?
And so will some one, when I am dead and gone, write my life?
(As if any man really knew aught of my life;

When I Peruse The Conquer'D Fame - Poem by Walt Whitman

WHEN I peruse the conquer'd fame of heroes, and the victories of
mighty generals, I do not envy the generals,
Nor the President in his Presidency, nor the rich in his great house;

When I Heard The Learned Astronomer - Poem by Walt Whitman

When I heard the learn'd astronomer, 
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me, 
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, 
and measure them,

When I Heard At The Close Of The Day - Poem by Walt Whitman

WHEN I heard at the close of the day how my name had been receiv'd
with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a happy night
for me that follow'd;
And else, when I carous'd, or when my plans were accomplish'd, still
I was not happy;

What Weeping Face - Poem by Walt Whitman

WHAT weeping face is that looking from the window?
Why does it stream those sorrowful tears?
Is it for some burial place, vast and dry?
Is it to wet the soil of graves? 

What Think You I Take My Pen In Hand? - Poem by Walt Whitman

WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?
The battle-ship, perfect-model'd, majestic, that I saw pass the
offing to-day under full sail?
The splendors of the past day? Or the splendor of the night that
envelopes me?

What Place Is Besieged? - Poem by Walt Whitman

WHAT place is besieged, and vainly tries to raise the siege?
Lo! I send to that place a commander, swift, brave, immortal;
And with him horse and foot--and parks of artillery,
And artillery-men, the deadliest that ever fired gun. 

What General Has A Good Army - Poem by Walt Whitman

WHAT General has a good army in himself, has a good army; 
He happy in himself, or she happy in herself, is happy,
But I tell you you cannot be happy by others, any more than you can
beget or conceive a child by others.