(no subject)
Because I'm bored of analyzing The Great Gatsby (good story, SHITTY ENDING. I've grown quite fond of it though), here, this is the Walt Whitman poem of the day:
Among the Multitude
Among the men and women the multitude,
I perceive one picking me out by secret divine signs,
Acknowledging none else, not parent, wife, husband, brother, child, any nearer
than I am,
Some are baffled, but that one is not--that one knows me.
Ah lover and perfect equal,
I meant that you should discover me so by faint indirections,
And I when I meet you mean to discover you by the like in you
Although, so far, Salut Au Monde! is my favorite of his poems.
Among the Multitude
Among the men and women the multitude,
I perceive one picking me out by secret divine signs,
Acknowledging none else, not parent, wife, husband, brother, child, any nearer
than I am,
Some are baffled, but that one is not--that one knows me.
Ah lover and perfect equal,
I meant that you should discover me so by faint indirections,
And I when I meet you mean to discover you by the like in you
Although, so far, Salut Au Monde! is my favorite of his poems.