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Walt Whitman - Despairing Cries.

1
DESPAIRING cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night, 
The sad voice of Death—the call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarmed,
    uncertain, 
This sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, 
Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my destination. 
  
2
I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you,
I approach, hear, behold—the sad mouth, the look out of the eyes, your mute inquiry, 
Whither I go from the bed I now recline on, come tell me; 
Old age, alarmed, uncertain—A young woman’s voice appealing to me, for comfort, 
A young man’s voice, Shall I not escape?

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Despairing Cries. - Comments and Information

Poet: Walt Whitman
Poem: 16. Despairing Cries.
Volume: Leaves of Grass
- 22. Gathered Leaves
Year: Published/Written in 1900
Poem of the Day: Oct 5 2007
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