YET, yet, ye downcast hours, I know ye also; <br /> Weights of lead, how ye clog and cling at my ankles! <br /> Earth to a chamber of mourning turns--I hear the o'erweening, mocking <br /> voice, <br /> Matter is conqueror--matter, triumphant only, continues onward. <br /> <br /> <br /> Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me, <br /> The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarm'd, uncertain, <br /> The Sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, <br /> Come tell me where I am speeding--tell me my destination. <br /> <br /> <br /> I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you, <br /> I approach, hear, behold--the sad mouth, the look out of the eyes, <br /> your mute inquiry, 10 <br /> Whither I go from the bed I recline on, come tell me: <br /> Old age, alarm'd, uncertain--A young woman's voice, appealing to me <br /> for comfort; <br /> A young man's voice, Shall I not escape?<br /><br />Walt Whitman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/yet-yet-ye-downcast-hours/
