Читать книгу Complete Works - Walt Whitman - Страница 332

Table of Contents

A carol closing sixty-nine — a resume — a repetition,

My lines in joy and hope continuing on the same,

Of ye, O God, Life, Nature, Freedom, Poetry;

Of you, my Land — your rivers, prairies, States — you, mottled Flag I love,

Your aggregate retain’d entire — Of north, south, east and west, your

items all;

Of me myself — the jocund heart yet beating in my breast,

The body wreck’d, old, poor and paralyzed — the strange inertia

falling pall-like round me,

The burning fires down in my sluggish blood not yet extinct,

The undiminish’d faith — the groups of loving friends.