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Poem by Walt Whitman


Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 9. My Canary Bird


Did we count great, O soul, to penetrate the themes of mighty books,
Absorbing deep and full from thoughts, plays, speculations?
But now from thee to me, caged bird, to feel thy joyous warble,
Filling the air, the lonesome room, the long forenoon,
Is it not just as great, O soul?



Walt Whitman


Walt Whitman's other poems:
  1. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 56. Old Age's Lambent Peaks
  2. Leaves of Grass. 24. Autumn Rivulets. 13. Out from Behind This Mask [To Confront a Portrait]
  3. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. Fancies at Navesink. 1. The Pilot in the Mist
  4. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 32. Life
  5. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 40. The Voice of the Rain


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