Re: Miracles by Walt Whitman

[Will Dockery]

"Hieronymous707" <hierony...@gmail.com> wrote in message
news:fca2e66c-ac97-467f...@googlegroups.com...

Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of
the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night
with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer
forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so
quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.

To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with
the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.

To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim�the rocks�the motion of the waves�
the ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?

*** I just came across a good piece of writing about Whitman, from a writer
named Borges, in a book I'm reading... if and when time permits I'll type
some of it in here, any fan of Whitman and/or the Beats will likely enjoy it
as much as I do.

Later.

--
Truck Stop Woman / Will Dockery & Henry Conley:
http://youtu.be/wGiuONOUeFk