BY broad Potomac's shore--again, old tongue! <br /> (Still uttering--still ejaculating--canst never cease this babble?) <br /> Again, old heart so gay--again to you, your sense, the full flush <br /> spring returning; <br /> Again the freshness and the odors--again Virginia's summer sky, <br /> pellucid blue and silver, <br /> Again the forenoon purple of the hills, <br /> Again the deathless grass, so noiseless, soft and green, <br /> Again the blood-red roses blooming. <br /> <br /> <br /> Perfume this book of mine, O blood-red roses! <br /> Lave subtly with your waters every line, Potomac! <br /> Give me of you, O spring, before I close, to put between its <br /> pages! 10 <br /> O forenoon purple of the hills, before I close, of you! <br /> O smiling earth--O summer sun, give me of you! <br /> O deathless grass, of you!<br /><br />Walt Whitman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/by-broad-potomac-s-shore/
