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Walt Whitman - Whispers Of Heavenly Death
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WHISPERS of heavenly death, murmur`d I hear;
Labial gossip of night—sibilant chorals;
Footsteps gently ascending—mystical breezes, wafted soft and low;
Ripples of unseen rivers—tides of a current, flowing, forever
         flowing;
(Or is it the plashing of tears? the measureless waters of human
         tears?)

I see, just see, skyward, great cloud-masses;
Mournfully, slowly they roll, silently swelling and mixing;
With, at times, a half-dimm`d, sadden`d, far-off star,
Appearing and disappearing.

(Some parturition, rather—some solemn, immortal birth:            


On the frontiers, to eyes impenetrable,
Some Soul is passing over.)
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