MY spirit to yours, dear brother; <br /> Do not mind because many, sounding your name, do not understand you; <br /> I do not sound your name, but I understand you, (there are others <br /> also;) <br /> I specify you with joy, O my comrade, to salute you, and to salute <br /> those who are with you, before and since--and those to come <br /> also, <br /> That we all labor together, transmitting the same charge and <br /> succession; <br /> We few, equals, indifferent of lands, indifferent of times; <br /> We, enclosers of all continents, all castes--allowers of all <br /> theologies, <br /> Compassionaters, perceivers, rapport of men, <br /> We walk silent among disputes and assertions, but reject not the <br /> disputers, nor any thing that is asserted; <br /> We hear the bawling and din--we are reach'd at by divisions, <br /> jealousies, recriminations on every side, 10 <br /> They close peremptorily upon us, to surround us, my comrade, <br /> Yet we walk unheld, free, the whole earth over, journeying up and <br /> down, till we make our ineffaceable mark upon time and the <br /> diverse eras, <br /> Till we saturate time and eras, that the men and women of races, ages <br /> to come, may prove brethren and lovers, as we are.<br /><br />Walt Whitman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-him-that-was-crucified/
