|
Leaves of Grass (1871-72)
contents
| previous
| next
QUICKSAND YEARS.
QUICKSAND years that whirl me I know not whither, |
Your schemes, politics, fail—lines give way—substances
mock and elude me;
|
Only the theme I sing, the great and strong-possess'd
Soul, eludes not;
|
One's-self must never give way—that is the final sub-
stance—that out of all is sure;
|
Out of politics, triumphs, battles, life—what at last
finally remains?
|
When shows break up, what but One's-Self is sure? |
contents
| previous
| next
|
| |