By the Roadside: Six Songs to Poems by Walt Whitman

I see the sleeping babe nestling the breast of its mother,
The sleeping mother and babe -- hush'd, I study them long and long.

Of obedience, faith, adhesiveness;
As I stand aloof and look, there is to me something profoundly affecting in large 
masses of men, following the lead of those who do not believe in men.

A mask, a perpetual disguise of herself,
Concealing her face, concealing her form,
Changes and transformations every hour, every moment,
Falling upon her even when she sleeps.

I see in you the estuary that enlarges and spreads
    itself grandly as it pours in the great sea.

Through the ample open door of the peaceful country barn,
A sun-lit pasture field, with cattle and horses feeding;
And haze, and vista, and the far horizon, fading away.

Silent and amazed even when a little boy,
I remember I heard the preacher every Sunday put God in his statements,
As contending against some being or influence.