Music poems

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Great are the Myths.

© Walt Whitman

1
GREAT are the mythsI too delight in them;
Great are Adam and EveI too look back and accept them;
Great the risen and fallen nations, and their poets, women, sages, inventors, rulers,

THAT music always round me, unceasing, unbeginningyet long untaught I did not hear;
But now the chorus I hear, and am elated;
A tenor, strong, ascending, with power and health, with glad notes of day-break I hear,
A soprano, at intervals, sailing buoyantly over the tops of immense waves,

Proud Music of The Storm.

© Walt Whitman

1
PROUD music of the storm!
Blast that careers so free, whistling across the prairies!
Strong hum of forest tree-tops! Wind of the mountains!

Sleepers, The.

© Walt Whitman

1
I WANDER all night in my vision,
Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping and stopping,
Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers,

Drum-Taps.

© Walt Whitman

1
FIRST, O songs, for a prelude,
Lightly strike on the stretchd tympanum, pride and joy in my city,
How she led the rest to armshow she gave the cue,

As I Walk These Broad, Majestic Days.

© Walt Whitman

AS I walk these broad, majestic days of peace,
(For the war, the struggle of blood finishd, wherein, O terrific Ideal!
Against vast odds, having gloriously won,
Now thou stridest onyet perhaps in time toward denser wars,

As I Sat Alone by Blue Ontarios Shores.

© Walt Whitman

1
AS I sat alone, by blue Ontarios shore,
As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace returnd, and the dead that return no
more,

Mannahatta.

© Walt Whitman

I WAS asking for something specific and perfect for my city,
Whereupon, lo! upsprang the aboriginal name!

Now I see what there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly, musical, self-sufficient;

A Woman Waits for Me.

© Walt Whitman

A WOMAN waits for meshe contains all, nothing is lacking,
Yet all were lacking, if sex were lacking, or if the moisture of the right man were
lacking.

Faces.

© Walt Whitman

1
SAUNTERING the pavement, or riding the country by-roadlo! such faces!
Faces of friendship, precision, caution, suavity, ideality;
The spiritual, prescient facethe always welcome, common, benevolent face,

In Cabind Ships at Sea.

© Walt Whitman

1
IN cabind ships, at sea,
The boundless blue on every side expanding,
With whistling winds and music of the wavesthe large imperious wavesIn

Poem of Joys.

© Walt Whitman

1
O TO make the most jubilant poem!
Even to set off these, and merge with these, the carols of Death.
O full of music! full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!

Ashes of Soldiers.

© Walt Whitman

ASHES of soldiers!
As I muse, retrospective, murmuring a chant in thought,
Lo! the war resumesagain to my sense your shapes,
And again the advance of armies.

Song at Sunset.

© Walt Whitman

SPLENDOR of ended day, floating and filling me!
Hour prophetichour resuming the past!
Inflating my throatyou, divine average!
You, Earth and Life, till the last ray gleams, I sing.

Walt Whitman.

© Walt Whitman

1
I CELEBRATE myself;
And what I assume you shall assume;
For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you.

Transcription Of Organ Music

The flower in the glass peanut bottle formerly in the
kitchen crooked to take a place in the light,
the closet door opened, because I used it before, it
kindly stayed open waiting for me, its owner.

Death & Fame

When I die
I don't care what happens to my body
throw ashes in the air, scatter 'em in East River
bury an urn in Elizabeth New Jersey, B'nai Israel Cemetery