Yonnodio
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Yonnondio.1
A SONG, a poem of itself—the word itself a dirge, Amid the wilds, the rocks, the storm and wintry night; To me such misty, strange tableaux the syllables calling up; Yonnondio*—I see, far in the west or north, a limitless ra-vine, with plains and mountains dark, I see swarms of stalwart chieftains, medicine-men, and war-
riors, As flitting by like clouds of ghosts, they pass and are gone in
the twilight, (Race of the woods, the landscapes free, and the falls! No picture, poem, statement, passing them to the future:) Yonnondio! Yonnondio!—unlimn'd they disappear; To-day gives place, and fades—the cities, farms, factories
fade; A muffled sonorous sound, a wailing word is borne through
the air for a moment, Then blank and gone and still, and utterly lost. WALT WHITMAN.
Notes
1. Reprinted in the "Sands at Seventy" annex to Leaves of Grass (1888). [back]