I Rested There

I rested there, by the river, by the flowing water, gurgling and coming down the mountainside, where I sat as glaciers glared on down, looming and crackling against the silent atmosphere. I wandered there, alongside the forests cropped by the logging crews against the aged wood, guarded by thin beaucratic paper made out of the …

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‘The Voice of the Rain’ by Walt Whitman (1885)

And who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower, Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated: I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain, Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea, Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form’d, altogether changed, and yet …

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