A Clear Midnight

THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou
lovest best.
Night, sleep, death and the stars.

by Walt Whitman

Comments (61)

Excellent use of rhyme scheme. SYLVA-ONYEMA UBA
All words are hypnotic here
Nice poem 💖
In little words the human thoughts in different times is narrated so greatly.
I believe he is saying goodbye in a sense of an outer body experiance.
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