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Poem by Walt Whitman


Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 23. Red Jacket (From Aloft)


Upon this scene, this show,
Yielded to-day by fashion, learning, wealth,
(Nor in caprice alonesome grains of deepest meaning,)
Haply, aloft, (who knows?) from distant sky-clouds' blended shapes,
As some old tree, or rock or cliff, thrill'd with its soul,
Product of Nature's sun, stars, earth directa towering human form,
In hunting-shirt of film, arm'd with the rifle, a half-ironical
      smile curving its phantom lips,
Like one of Ossian's ghosts looks down.



Walt Whitman


Walt Whitman's other poems:
  1. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. Fancies at Navesink. 6. Proudly the Flood Comes In
  2. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 11. The Wallabout Martyrs
  3. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 46. Twenty Years
  4. Leaves of Grass. 30. Whispers of Heavenly Death. 5. Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours
  5. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 7. A Font of Type


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