Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен)

Leaves of Grass. 30. Whispers of Heavenly Death. 9. That Music Always Round Me

That music always round me, unceasing, unbeginning, yet long
      untaught I did not hear,
But now the chorus I hear and am elated,
A tenor, strong, ascending with power and health, with glad notes of
      daybreak I hear,
A soprano at intervals sailing buoyantly over the tops of immense waves,
A transparent base shuddering lusciously under and through the universe,
The triumphant tutti, the funeral wailings with sweet flutes and
      violins, all these I fill myself with,
I hear not the volumes of sound merely, I am moved by the exquisite
      meanings,
I listen to the different voices winding in and out, striving,
      contending with fiery vehemence to excel each other in emotion;
I do not think the performers know themselves—but now I think
      begin to know them.

1. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 11. The Wallabout Martyrs
2. Leaves of Grass. 5. Calamus. 38. That Shadow My Likeness
3. Leaves of Grass. 20. By the Roadside. 28. Offerings
4. Leaves of Grass. 21. Drum-Taps. 35. How Solemn As One by One [Washington City, 1865]
5. Leaves of Grass. 30. Whispers of Heavenly Death. 5. Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1433

Последние стихотворения

To English version