Books by Whitman
AS THE TIME DRAWS NIGH.
As the time draws nigh, glooming, a cloud,|
|A dread beyond, of I know not what, darkens me.|
|I shall traverse The States awhile—but I cannot tell|
whither or how long;
|Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing,|
my voice will suddenly cease.
O book, O chants! must all then amount to but this?|
|Must we barely arrive at this beginning of us?…|
And yet it is enough, O soul!
|O soul! we have positively appear'd—that is enough.|