QUICKSAND years that whirl me I know not whither,
Your schemes, politics, fail—lines give way—substances mock and elude me;
Only the theme I sing, the great and strong-possess’d Soul, eludes not;
One’s-self must never give way—that is the final substance—that out of all
is
sure;
Out of politics, triumphs, battles, life—what at last finally remains?
When shows break up, what but One’s-Self is sure?

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2 Comments

  1. Samantha says:

    i really enjoy this poem just because of its simplicity. everyone has had this time in their life where they feel like they are faltering in thier beliefs, and this poem gives the readers strength to continue on with their beliefs!

  2. Melody says:

    I really like this poem. It appealed to me almost immediately only for the fact that at least everyone feels that time has passed them by. I, too, feel that life has gone, and continues to go, way too fast, and I can hardly catch my breath at times. Walt Whitman captured these emotions beautifully…

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