Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен)

Leaves of Grass. 35. Good-Bye My Fancy. 28. The Unexpress'd

How dare one say it?
After the cycles, poems, singers, plays,
Vaunted Ionia's, India's—Homer, Shakspere—the long, long times'
      thick dotted roads, areas,
The shining clusters and the Milky Ways of stars—Nature's pulses reap'd,
All retrospective passions, heroes, war, love, adoration,
All ages' plummets dropt to their utmost depths,
All human lives, throats, wishes, brains—all experiences' utterance;
After the countless songs, or long or short, all tongues, all lands,
Still something not yet told in poesy's voice or print—something lacking,
(Who knows? the best yet unexpress'd and lacking.)

1. Leaves of Grass. 21. Drum-Taps. 7. Virginia—The West
2. Leaves of Grass. 24. Autumn Rivulets. 13. Out from Behind This Mask [To Confront a Portrait]
3. Leaves of Grass. 24. Autumn Rivulets. 20. Thought
4. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 17. Abraham Lincoln, Born Feb. 12, 1809
5. Leaves of Grass. 5. Calamus. 25. Here the Frailest Leaves of Me

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