By Broad Potomac's Shore

Walt Whitman


   BY broad Potomac's shore--again, old tongue!
   (Still uttering--still ejaculating--canst never cease this babble?)
   Again, old heart so gay--again to you, your sense, the full flush
         spring returning;
   Again the freshness and the odors--again Virginia's summer sky,
         pellucid blue and silver,
   Again the forenoon purple of the hills,
   Again the deathless grass, so noiseless, soft and green,
   Again the blood-red roses blooming.


   Perfume this book of mine, O blood-red roses!
   Lave subtly with your waters every line, Potomac!
   Give me of you, O spring, before I close, to put between its
         pages!                                                       10
   O forenoon purple of the hills, before I close, of you!
   O smiling earth--O summer sun, give me of you!
   O deathless grass, of you!

Index + Blog :

Poetry Archive Index | Blog : Poem of the Day