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Of Him I Love Day and Night

Of him I love day and night, I dream’d I heard he was dead;
And I dream’d I went where they had buried him I love—but he was not in that place;
And I dream’d I wander’d, searching among burial-places, to find him;
And I found that every place was a burial-place;
The houses full of life were equally full of death, (this house is now;)
The streets, the shipping, the places of amusement, the Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia, the Mannahatta, were as full of the dead as of the living,
And fuller, O vastly fuller, of the dead than of the living;
—And what I dream’d I will henceforth tell to every person and age,
And I stand henceforth bound to what I dream’d;
And now I am willing to disregard burial-places, and dispense with them;
And if the memorials of the dead were put up indifferently everywhere, even in the room where I eat or sleep, I should be satisfied;
And if the corpse of any one I love, or if my own corpse, be duly render’d to powder, and pour’d in the sea, I shall be satisfied;
Or if it be distributed to the winds, I shall be satisfied.

-Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass. 1900.



( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
Feb. 6th, 2007 10:34 pm (UTC)
Whitman is absolutely amazing. Possibly my favorite poet.
Feb. 7th, 2007 12:22 am (UTC)
I love him, too.
Mar. 4th, 2008 01:06 pm (UTC)
I must start reading more poetry. walt whitman is wonderful.
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )