By That Long Scan of Waves

By that long scan of waves, myself call'd back, resumed upon myself,
In every crest some undulating light or shade--some retrospect,
Joys, travels, studies, silent panoramas--scenes ephemeral,
The long past war, the battles, hospital sights, the wounded and the dead,
Myself through every by-gone phase--my idle youth--old age at hand,
My three-score years of life summ'd up, and more, and past,
By any grand ideal tried, intentionless, the whole a nothing,
And haply yet some drop within God's scheme's ensemble--some
wave, or part of wave,
Like one of yours, ye multitudinous ocean.

More poems by Walt Whitman

Beginners

How they are provided for upon the earth, (appearing at intervals,) / How dear and dreadful they are to the earth,

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Aboard at a Ship's Helm

Aboard at a ship's helm, / A young steersman steering with care.

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Hush'd Be the Camps To-Day [May 4, 1865]

Hush'd be the camps to-day, / And soldiers let us drape our war-worn weapons,

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I Hear America Singing

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear, / Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,

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