Poem by Walt Whitman

Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 26. Broadway

What hurrying human tides, or day or night!
What passions, winnings, losses, ardors, swim thy waters!
What whirls of evil, bliss and sorrow, stem thee!
What curious questioning glances—glints of love!
Leer, envy, scorn, contempt, hope, aspiration!
Thou portal—thou arena—thou of the myriad long-drawn lines and groups!
(Could but thy flagstones, curbs, facades, tell their inimitable tales;
Thy windows rich, and huge hotels—thy side-walks wide;)
Thou of the endless sliding, mincing, shuffling feet!
Thou, like the parti-colored world itself—like infinite, teeming,
      mocking life!
Thou visor'd, vast, unspeakable show and lesson!

1. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 39. Life and Death
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3. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 47. Orange Buds by Mail from Florida
4. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 46. Twenty Years
5. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. Fancies at Navesink. 6. Proudly the Flood Comes In

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