Wednesday Poem

Two poems of Walt Whitman

O Living Always, Always Dying

O living always, always dying!
O the burials of me past and present,
O me while I stride ahead, material, visible, imperious as ever;
O me, what I was for years, now dead (I lament not, I am
…… content);
O to disengage myself from those corpses of me, which I turn
…… and look at where I cast them,
To pass on (O living! Always living!) and leave the corpses behind.

What Am I After All

What am I after all but a child, pleas’d with the sound of my
…… own name? repeating it over and over;
I stand apart to hear—it never tires me.

To you your name also;
Did you think there was nothing but two or three pronuncia-
…… tions in the sound of your name?