---

Walt Whitman - Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours
Work rating: Low

YET, yet, ye downcast hours, I know ye also;
Weights of lead, how ye clog and cling at my ankles!
Earth to a chamber of mourning turns—I hear the o`er weening, mocking
         voice,
Matter is conqueror—matter, triumphant only, continues onward.


Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me,
The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarm`d, uncertain,
The Sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me,
Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my destination.


I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you,
I approach, hear, behold—the sad mouth, the look out of the eyes,
         your mute inquiry,                                           


Whither I go from the bed I recline on, come tell me:
Old age, alarm`d, uncertain—A young woman`s voice, appealing to me
         for comfort;
A young man`s voice, Shall I not escape?
Source
The script ran 0.006 seconds.