Darkness and death? Nay, Pioneer, for thee The day of deeper vision has begun; There is no darkness for the central sun Nor any death for immortality. At last the song of all fair songs that be, At last the guerdon of a race well run, The upswelling joy to know the victory won, The river’s rapture when it finds the sea. Ah, thou art wrought in an heroic mould, The modern man upon whose brow yet stays A gleam of glory from the age of gold,— A diadem which all the gods have kissed. Hail and farewell! flower of the antique days,— Democracy’s divine protagonist. March 26, 1892.
Walt Whitman
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a bird in my bower Sat calling, a-calling; A bird answered low from the garden afar. His note came with power, While falling, a-falling, Her note quivered faint as the light of a star. “I am Life! I am Life!” From the bower a-ringing, Trilled forth a mad melody, soaring above...
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