by Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892)
But on these days of brightness
Language: English
But on these days of brightness, On the far-stretching beauteous landscape, the roads and lanes, the high-piled farm-wagons, and the fruits and barns, Shall the dead intrude? Ah, the dead to me mar not -- they fit well in Nature; They fit very well in the landscape, under the trees and grass, And along the edge of the sky, in the horizon’s far margin. Nor do I forget you, departed; Nor in winter or summer, my lost ones; But most, in the open air, as now, when my soul is rapt and at peace -- like pleasing phantoms, Your dear memories, rising, glide silently by me.
About the headline (FAQ)
Confirmed with Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, Philadelphia: David McKay, c1900.
Authorship:
- by Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892), no title, appears in Leaves of Grass, in A Carol of Harvest, for 1867, no. 7 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- [ None yet in the database ]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2022-04-18
Line count: 12
Word count: 104