February 17, 2010

For Those Who Mourn

From When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom’d by Walt Whitman. He wrote this after the assassination of President Lincoln. He considered his friend's death, obviously, a great loss.


O how shall I warble myself for the dead one there I loved?
And how shall I deck my song for the large sweet soul that has gone?
And what shall my perfume be, for the grave of him I love?

Sea-winds, blown from east and west,
Blown from the eastern sea, and blown from the western sea, till there on the prairies meeting:
These, and with these, and the breath of my chant,
I perfume the grave of him I love.

1 comment:

The Grunt said...

Great excerpt.