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Walt Whitman - Spirit That Form`d This Scene
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SPIRIT that form`d this scene,
These tumbled rock-piles grim and red,
These reckless heaven-ambitious peaks,
These gorges, turbulent-clear streams, this naked freshness,
These formless wild arrays, for reasons of their own,
I know thee, savage spirit—we have communed together,
Mine too such wild arrays, for reasons of their own;
Was`t charged against my chants they had forgotten art?
To fuse within themselves its rules precise and delicatesse?
The lyrist`s measur`d beat, the wrought-out temple`s grace—column
         and polish`d arch forgot?                                    


But thou that revelest here—spirit that form`d this scene,
They have remember`d thee.
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