Souvenirs of Democracy

 …from the quills of the dead white poets

Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892)

The business man, the acquirer vast,

After assiduous years, surveying results, preparing for departure,

Devises houses and lands to his children -

bequeaths stocks, goods – funds for a school or hospital,

Leaves money to certain companions to by tokens, souvenirs of gems and gold;

Parcelling out with care – And then, to prevent all cavil,

His name to his testament formally signs.

But I, my life surveying,

With nothing to show, to devise, from its idle years,

Nor houses, nor lands – nor tokens of gems or gold for my friends,

Only these Souvenirs of Democracy – In them – in all my songs

behind me leaving,

To You, whoever you are, (bathing, leavening this leaf especially with my breath

- pressing on it a moment with my hands; -

Here! feel how the pulse beats in my wrists! –

how my heart’s-blood is swelling, contracting!)

I will You, in all, Myself, with promise to never desert you,

To which I sign my name,

Walt Whitman

About Avadoro Worden

This entry was posted in America, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Souvenirs of Democracy

  1. Severon says:

    Pretty good.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>