“poor boy! I never knew you, Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you”

“Be composed--be at ease with me--I am Walt Whitman, liberal and lusty as Nature, Not till the sun excludes you do I exclude you, Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you and the leaves to rustle for you, do my words refuse to glisten and rustle for you. ”

“Out of the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop gently to me,Whispering I love you, before long I die,I have travel'd a long way merely to look on you to touch you,For I could not die till I once look'd on you,For I fear'd I might afterward lose you. Now we have met, we have look'd, we are safe,Return in peace to the ocean my love,I too am part of that ocean my love, we are not so much separated,Behold the great rondure, the cohesion of all, how perfect!But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us,As for an hour carrying us diverse, yet cannot carry us diverse forever;Be not impatient--a little space--know you I salute the air, theocean and the land,Every day at sundown for your dear sake my love.”

“Demon or bird! (said the boy’s soul,) Is it indeed toward your mate you sing? or is it mostly to me? For I, that was a child, my tongue’s use sleeping, Now I have heard you, Now in a moment I know what I am for—I awake, 150And already a thousand singers—a thousand songs, clearer, louder and more sorrowful than yours, A thousand warbling echoes have started to life within me, Never to die. O you singer, solitary, singing by yourself—projecting me; O solitary me, listening—nevermore shall I cease perpetuating you; 155Never more shall I escape, never more the reverberations, Never more the cries of unsatisfied love be absent from me, Never again leave me to be the peaceful child I was before what there, in the night, By the sea, under the yellow and sagging moon, The messenger there arous’d—the fire, the sweet hell within, 160The unknown want, the destiny of me.”

“It avails not, time nor place--distance avails not,I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so manygenerations hence,Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt,Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd,Just as you are refresh'd by the gladness of the river and thebright flow, I was refresh'd,Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swiftcurrent, I stood yet was hurried,Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships and thethick-stemm'd pipes of steamboats, I look'd.”

“And as to you life, I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths, / No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.”

“I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone, I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again, I am to see to it that I do not lose you.”