by Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892)
Whereto answering, the sea
Language: English
Whereto answering, the sea, Delaying not, hurrying not, Whisper'd me through the night, and very plainly before day-break, Lisp'd to me the low and delicious word DEATH; And again Death -- ever Death, Death, Death, Hissing melodious, neither like the bird, nor like my arous'd child's heart, But edging near, as privately for me, rustling at my feet, Creeping thence steadily up to my ears, and laving me softly all over, Death, Death, Death, Death, Death. Which I do not forget, But fuse the song of my dusky demon and brother, That he sang to me in the moonlight on Paumanok's gray beach, With the thousand responsive songs, at random, My own songs, awaked from that hour; And with them the key, the word up from the waves, The word of the sweetest song, and all songs, That strong and delicious word which, creeping to my feet, The sea whisper'd me.
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Authorship:
- by Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892), no title, appears in Leaves of Grass, in Sea-Drift, no. 10 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2010-02-01
Line count: 18
Word count: 150