OR, from that Sea of Time, <br /> Spray, blown by the wind--a double winrow-drift of weeds and shells; <br /> (O little shells, so curious-convolute! so limpid-cold and voiceless! <br /> Yet will you not, to the tympans of temples held, <br /> Murmurs and echoes still bring up--Eternity's music, faint and far, <br /> Wafted inland, sent from Atlantica's rim--strains for the Soul of the <br /> Prairies, <br /> Whisper'd reverberations--chords for the ear of the West, joyously <br /> sounding <br /> Your tidings old, yet ever new and untranslatable;) <br /> Infinitessimals out of my life, and many a life, <br /> (For not my life and years alone I give--all, all I give;) 10 <br /> These thoughts and Songs--waifs from the deep--here, cast high and <br /> dry, <br /> Wash'd on America's shores. <br /> <br /> <br /> Currents of starting a Continent new, <br /> Overtures sent to the solid out of the liquid, <br /> Fusion of ocean and land--tender and pensive waves, <br /> (Not safe and peaceful only--waves rous'd and ominous too. <br /> Out of the depths, the storm's abysms--Who knows whence? Death's <br /> waves, <br /> Raging over the vast, with many a broken spar and tatter'd sail.)<br /><br />Walt Whitman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/or-from-that-sea-of-time/
