Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен)

Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 49. You Lingering Sparse Leaves of Me

You lingering sparse leaves of me on winter-nearing boughs,
And I some well-shorn tree of field or orchard-row;
You tokens diminute and lorn—(not now the flush of May, or July
      clover-bloom—no grain of August now;)
You pallid banner-staves—you pennants valueless—you overstay'd of time,
Yet my soul-dearest leaves confirming all the rest,
The faithfulest—hardiest—last.

1. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 39. Life and Death
2. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 28. Old Salt Kossabone
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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