DESPAIRING cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night, <br /> The sad voice of Death--the call of my nearest lover, putting forth, <br /> alarmed, uncertain, <br /> This 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, <br /> Whither I go from the bed I now recline on, come tell me; <br /> Old age, alarmed, 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/despairing-cries/
