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.)
Whispers Of Heavenly Death
Walt Whitman
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Poem topics: birth, cloud, death, night, star, forever, soul, human, current, great, hear, gossip, soft, skyward, gently, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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