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The Voice of the Rain



AND who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower, Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated: I am the Poém of Earth, said the voice of the rain, Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea, Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely formed, altogether changed, and yet the same, I descend to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the globe, And all that in them without me were seeds only, latent, unborn, And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin, and make pure 
  and beautify it:
(For song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfillment, wandering, Recked or unrecked, duly with love returns.) Walt Whitman.


1. Reprinted in Leaves of Grass (1897). [back]

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