Dead Poets, Philosophs, Priests ()
[excerpt from Starting from Paumanok]
by Walt Whitman
performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode
Dead poets, philosophs, priests,Martyrs, artists, inventors, governments long since,
Language-shapers on other shores,
Nations once powerful, now reduced, withdrawn, or desolate,
I dare not proceed till I respectfully credit what you have left
wafted hither,
I have perused it, own it is admirable, (moving awhile among it,)
Think nothing can ever be greater, nothing can ever deserve more
than it deserves,
Regarding it all intently a long while, then dismissing it,
I stand in my place with my own day here.
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