On the Beach at Night Alone
On the beach at night alone, / As the old mother sways her to and fro singing her husky song,
No Labor-Saving Machine
❦
No labor-saving machine,
Nor discovery have I made,
Nor will I be able to leave behind me any wealthy bequest to found
hospital or library,
Nor reminiscence of any deed of courage for America,
Nor literary success nor intellect; nor book for the book-shelf,
But a few carols vibrating through the air I leave,
For comrades and lovers.
More poems by Walt Whitman
A Noiseless Patient Spider
A noiseless patient spider, / I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
To Those Who've Fail'd
To those who've fail'd, in aspiration vast, / To unnam'd soldiers fallen in front on the lead,
For You, O Democracy
Come, I will make the continent indissoluble, / I will make the most splendid race the sun ever shone upon,