Title: It is no miracle now
Creator: Walt Whitman
Date: Between 1850 and 1855
Whitman Archive ID: duk.00007
Source: Trent Collection of Whitmaniana, David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University. Transcribed from digital images of the original. For a description of the editorial rationale behind our treatment of manuscripts, see our statement of editorial policy.
Editorial note: This manuscript was likely written between 1850 and 1855 when Whitman was composing his first (1855) edition of Leaves of Grass. Similar lines appeared in the first poem in that edition, eventually titled "Song of Myself."
Related item: On the back of this manuscript is a prose draft also related to "Song of Myself." See duk.00797.
Contributors to digital file: Brandon James O'Neil, Nicole Gray, and Ken Price
It is no miracle now that wherever
we be we are to live on always.
Touch is the miracle!
Where can we What is it to be lost, or change our
dresses, or how deeply can we
sleep, when sleep long, when
A minute of time, a touch, and a
drop of us, can launch immortality.
Henceforth After this day, A touch shall henceforth be ^small Little things is shall be are henceforth my
my [tongue?] proof and
argument
It It They shall tells for me that people In them, the smallest least of us the universe eternity
has no time for Death, ^each inch of existence is so good exquisite [illegible] ^ weighty needful
But And, that to pass existence is ^ [poetry?] sovereign supreme
over all, and what we thought death
is but life brought to a finer
parturition.—
An inch's contact
My feeling has made me brave from
I am brave from th