Poem by Walt Whitman

Leaves of Grass. 30. Whispers of Heavenly Death. 12. O Living Always, Always Dying

O living always, always dying!
O the burials of me past and present,
O me while I stride ahead, material, visible, imperious as ever;
O me, what I was for years, now dead, (I lament not, I am content;)
O to disengage myself from those corpses of me, which I turn and
      look at where I cast them,
To pass on, (O living! always living!) and leave the corpses behind.

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4. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 46. Twenty Years
5. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 10. Queries to My Seventieth Year

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